#it’s about how congressional actions are quiet | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

faithnfrivolity · 7 hours ago

Text

“Technical State of Civil War”

Let’s dispense with the pleasantries.

We are at war.

Not a shooting war.

Not yet.

But something worse in its own quiet, choking way—a technical state of civil war. The kind of war that makes cowards of rules and turns procedure into shrapnel.

And in Texas, Greg Abbott is lighting the fuse.

On August 4th, Governor Abbott announced—proudly, defiantly—that any Democratic legislator who fails to appear for a surprise session of the Texas state legislature by August 5th will see their seat declared vacant.

This, in a bald attempt to force a quorum for an unscheduled redistricting effort that would gerrymander at least five new Republican congressional seats into existence.

Five seats.

Bought not with votes, but with ink and knives.

Five seats to hold the U.S. House hostage after a 2026 election that, by all current indicators, will be a biblical catastrophe for the Republican Party.

This is not about state politics.

This is not about Texas.

This is about power.

This is about permanently tipping the balance of national representation using the architecture of a dying republic to rig the new one being born behind its back.

It is a dagger aimed at the heart of the Constitution itself—and it is being sheathed in plain sight.

Governor Gavin Newsom of California has responded in kind.

So have the governors of Illinois, Washington, New York.

They’ve declared their own intent to redraw maps, to counterbalance Abbott’s theft with a theft of their own.

And just like that, the pretense is gone.

The guardrails are being sawed off by both sides.

The game is rigged, the referees have joined the teams, and the field is splitting down the middle.

We are not drifting toward civil war.

We are being carried there—on gurneys, on motorcades, in armored trucks painted red, white, and blue and driven by men with no conscience and nothing left to lose.

Donald Trump—the increasingly frail, increasingly unhinged re-occupant of the Oval Office—has shattered the last illusions of presidential restraint.

His executive orders openly violate the Constitution.

He appoints judges who have lied under oath and dares the courts to stop him.

Senate Republicans, now functionally extinct as an institution of deliberation, confirm them without even pretending to vet.

Trump has begun personally selecting general officers in the U.S. military.

He is choosing his own warlords.

This is no longer political theatre.

This is war prep. This is banana republic shit.

And the punchline?

Half the country still thinks the Democrats are overreacting.

That we’re all just melting down because we lost a few court cases or that we’re mad we can’t get pronouns printed on our napkins.

No.

We’re reacting because we’re watching the United States be turned inside out by men who believe they should rule forever—or not at all.

Let’s be brutally clear.

This is not just about maps.

Not just about Abbott.

This is about a Republican Party that has now publicly declared—yes, publicly, and repeatedly—that if a Democrat wins the presidency in 2028, they will refuse to certify the election.

Full stop.

That’s not politics. That’s war-by-other-means.

The plan is as clear as it is insane: gerrymander the House, win the majority through rigged maps, then throw the 2028 election to the chamber when no consensus can be reached.

Install a Republican president—possibly Trump, God help us—by congressional fiat, regardless of the Electoral College or the popular vote.

In other words: end elections.

Cement minority rule.

Burn the scaffolding of democracy and salt the earth where the ballots used to grow.

And here’s where we land.

If one side openly declares they will never accept a Democrat in power again—and backs that declaration with action—then the only rational, ethical, and self-defensive response is to make the same declaration in return.

That’s how we arrive at a technical state of civil war.

Not with cannon fire.

Not with a shot at Fort Sumter.

But with deadlines and district lines, and governors signing paperwork like generals drawing battle maps.

And yes, it leads—eventually, inevitably—to the real thing.

Because what happens when blue states stop sending taxes to a red federal government?

What happens when governors of California, New York, and Illinois say, flat out, “We no longer recognize the authority of a president elected by gerrymandered fiat”?

What happens when National Guard units are federalized and told to act against their own citizens?

We’ve already seen it.

Federal troops in Portland.

Federal agents in unmarked vans in Minneapolis.

And now, a sitting U.S. president selecting military leadership based not on strategy, but on loyalty.

This is what a soft coup looks like.

This is how republics become dictatorships—one signed order, one packed court, one nullified election at a time.

We are standing on the edge.

And I want to be clear: I’m not even opposed to the collapse in principle.

Because unlike the Abbott crowd, I’ve thought this through.

If the United States breaks apart—and God knows, we are dangling over that edge like Wile E. Coyote holding a stick of TNT—here is what happens next:

California, Oregon, Washington, Nevada—the spine of the West—will form a new nation.

They will be joined by Illinois, Michigan, New York, Massachusetts, and most of the northeastern corridor.

The population, economy, and military of this new Union will be vastly superior to anything the southern rump states can cobble together.

And yes, you can wave your little Wyoming flags, but the brutal math is this: once the U.S. Constitution is abandoned, so too is the notion that two Dakotas matter more than one California.

In the new post-America, power will come from population, productivity, and force projection.

Which means: the south is screwed.

The GOP’s strongholds—Mississippi, Alabama, Florida, Texas—are welfare states, net takers, dependent on federal subsidies from blue states they now propose to dominate.

They are a red velvet cake of hypocrisy baked in a kitchen paid for by liberal taxpayers.

And when those subsidies stop?

When Social Security checks don’t arrive?

When FEMA aid dries up?

When food assistance vanishes?

These states will burn—not from outside invasion, but from within.

Poor white voters, duped into culture war hysteria, will finally realize that racism doesn’t pay the rent.

And when the AC breaks, when the grocery shelves are bare, when the insulin is gone—they will riot.

The next Fort Sumter won’t be fired upon by blue coats—it’ll be torched from the inside by red ones who realize too late they were cannon fodder for a billionaire death cult.

Meanwhile, the new blue nation—call it Pacifica, call it the North American Republic, call it literally anything else—will control the nukes.

Because those bases are in California.

Those silos are in Montana and the Dakotas.

Those subs are docked in blue harbors, crewed by people with graduate degrees and no patience for neo-Confederate cosplay.

There may be some holdouts—some nukes in Texas, maybe a stray missile in Florida—but the command structure will fracture.

And the moment loyalty is divided in a nuclear state, you no longer have a country.

You have a disaster waiting for a launch code.

And you can bet NATO and the EU are watching.

So is China. So is Russia.

The new blue state will ally with Europe overnight.

The new red state?

It will be isolated.

Economically neutered.

Morally bankrupt. Internationally shunned.

Try running a nation with no money, no allies, and a citizenry trained only in rage. Let’s see how that goes.

And yet—and yet—this is where we are headed.

Because for too long, one side has played by the rules while the other sharpens the knives.

We have tried to compromise with arsonists.

We have let the Constitution become a suicide pact.

No more.

Because now, if we do not fight, we die.

If we play fair, we lose.

If we tell ourselves it can’t happen here, we will wake up in the ash of what once was.

Greg Abbott is trying to fire on Fort Sumter with a fountain pen and a smirk.

If we don’t match him force for force—not violence for violence, but action for action, map for map, court for court, and yes, goddamnit, declaration for declaration—then the next fight won’t be about democracy.

It will be about which side gets the tanks.

And you know what?

I say let it come.

Because I promise you: the right has not thought this through.

They think blue states are weak.

That liberal means soft.

That cities can’t fight.

But I’ve seen New Yorkers when the train’s late.

I’ve seen Californians during wildfires.

I’ve seen drag queens in Texas standing alone against armed mobs and not blinking.

You want to go to war with those people?

Be my guest.

Just don’t be surprised when they’re still standing and you’re neck-deep in the mud, wondering why the federal aid convoy never came.

Let me say it again: this is a technical civil war.

The only question left is whether it becomes a real one.

Whether maps give way to bullets.

Whether executive orders become execution orders.

And if that day comes, the outcome is not assured.

But the blame will be.

It will rest on the heads of men like Trump, like Abbott, like the perjured judges and the cowardly Senators and the hollow-eyed billionaires who looked at democracy and said, “That’s too risky—let’s buy it instead.”

But history has long arms.

And the schoolchildren they’re so terrified of?

The ones they think will be traumatized by learning about slavery?

Those kids will write the textbooks.

And they will tell the truth.

They will say that the Republican Party, faced with the loss of cultural hegemony, chose to burn the country down rather than share it.

That the right feared democracy more than death.

That in the end, they didn’t win.

They ended.

Because power isn’t loyalty.

Power is legitimacy. Power is cooperation. Power is earned.

And no matter how many judges they install, how many maps they redraw, how many parades they throw for the flag—they cannot force a country to love them.

And the United States?

The United States is not one nation.

Not really.

Hasn’t been for a very long time.

Maybe never was.

We’ve called it “united” because no one had the balls to call it anything else.

But look closer.

Really look.

Not at the myth, not at the hymns or the fireworks or the golden parchment we put under museum glass and pretend still governs us.

Look at the actual nation.

The machine.

The bones under the makeup. You’ll see it’s already split.

We are a cold war in a hot climate, a long, drunken marriage where both spouses sleep in separate bedrooms, hoarding money and muttering fantasies of murder.

Half of this country prays for rain.

The other half curses God for not sending fire.

You think this is a phase?

A tantrum?

This is the logical end of manifest destiny and the Electoral College.

This is what you get when you marry thirteen slave states to thirteen merchant ones and pretend the vows were ever sincere.

You get a monstrosity: a country stitched together by compromise, half-built on genocide, half-built on commerce, full of contradictions so profound that the entire enterprise was always going to collapse in on itself like a house made of buried lies and termite wood.

And if you don’t believe me, ask the Cherokee.

Ask the Sioux.

Ask the Japanese Americans who had their homes stolen while they sat in desert cages.

Ask the Black soldiers who liberated Europe and came home to lynch mobs.

Ask the trans kids being hunted across state lines.

Ask the women whose bodies are now the property of governors.

Ask them if this was ever one country.

Ask a gay couple in Mississippi what flag they’re saluting when they’re denied medical rights.

Ask a Black teenager in Georgia if the Constitution applies when a cop pulls up behind him.

Ask a nurse in Arizona who makes $38,000 a year and can’t afford insulin because her governor thought tax cuts for landlords were a moral obligation.

Ask the dead. Ask the poor. Ask the workers.

Ask the veterans.

This was never one country.

It was two—or more—pretending not to notice each other, because the lies were easier than the war.

But the lie is collapsing.

There is no social contract anymore—only contractual obligation.

There is no shared dream—only curated delusions, sold like corn dogs at a carnival no one wants to admit is actually a funeral.

The national anthem plays, and we’re supposed to rise, even though the flag’s draped over a coffin and the smell of decay is coming up through the floorboards.

What do you call a government where one party believes in nothing but power, and the other believes in rules the first party has openly set on fire?

You don’t call it a democracy. You don’t even call it a republic.

You call it hospice.

And hospice is where the United States now lives—quietly rotting, humming show tunes while the nurse tightens the morphine drip and checks her watch for the next coup attempt.

Because the old country—the one your parents pledged allegiance to, the one your grandfather swore oaths for, the one we were all taught to memorize and mythologize—that country is already gone.

The states don’t trust the federal government.

The Supreme Court is functionally a papal tribunal in robes, overturning majority will with smirks and footnotes.

Congress is a roach motel for lobbyists and performative lunatics, many of whom are openly preparing for a post-America America where the flag stays the same, but the Constitution is a ghost story told around campfires by billionaires.

And don’t give me the “but the military” argument.

As if the military isn’t just as fractured.

The military is not a monolith.

It’s a lattice of class tension and cultural divergence, a cross-section of a nation coming apart at every seam.

You think the Joint Chiefs will all salute the same president if both sides claim victory in 2028?

You think a captain from Oregon will obey the same orders as a major from Alabama if they both think they’re saving the republic?

We are one disputed election away from seeing Marine units on opposite sides of the Potomac drawing weapons on each other.

And don’t think they won’t.

We’ve trained them to kill.

But we didn’t train them who to follow once the flag splits in two and each side says it’s the real one.

That’s the thing no one’s ready for: there won’t be two Americas.

There will be twenty.

Twenty splintered visions of what the United States “really” is, each one armed and praying for the clarity of righteous bloodshed.

California won’t ask permission to secede.

It’ll just stop obeying.

Texas already pretends it’s its own country—hell, they teach their kids the Alamo was a birthright, not a graveyard.

And Florida?

Florida is the Bosnian wildcard in the whole damn deck.

Armed, enraged, half-drowning in its own hubris and sea level, it will burn and smile as it does.

Once the structure collapses—once the federal government becomes two rival groups of governors and officers and deep-state functionaries playing constitutional Calvinball, it’s over.

The nukes don’t matter.

The treaties don’t matter.

What matters is who controls the ports, who keeps the power grid on, who can move food and fuel and bullets across state lines.

There will be checkpoints.

Roadblocks.

Supply chains redrawn by governors who no longer answer to the Pentagon, because the Pentagon will be two buildings by then—one in D.C., one in Omaha, or maybe Austin, and each one claiming legitimacy over the other.

The South will remember its mythologies and try to rise again.

The North will remember its debts and try to collect.

Cities will become fortresses.

Rural counties will become militias.

Suburbs will become no-man’s-land.

And as all this happens, the dollar will collapse.

Don’t kid yourself: the global economy does not give a fuck about “We the People.”

They care about stability.

Predictability.

Trade routes and energy flows and the enforcement of contracts.

The minute they sense real domestic instability—not the threat of it, but the confirmation of it—the dollar goes down like a narcoleptic in a blackout.

And when that happens, the war isn’t theoretical anymore.

It’s material.

Because we don’t make shit here.

We import. And when the imports stop, the riots start.

You think Americans know how to wait in line for food?

You think anyone in this country has the patience for “rolling blackouts” or “fuel rations” or “shared sacrifice”?

No.

They will shoot the cashier.

They will torch the supermarket.

They will drag their neighbor into the street because someone has to bleed for the fact that their Amazon package didn’t arrive and their WiFi is down and the President is in hiding.

You want a preview?

Look at January 6th. That was the rehearsal dinner.

Look at Kenosha. Look at Minneapolis. Look at Portland.

Now multiply it by fifty.

Add drone strikes.

Add rogue governors.

Add National Guard units defecting based on Facebook memes and AM talk radio.

Add sheriffs with God complexes and militia ties.

Add cyberattacks from Russia, China, and every 20-year-old in Estonia with a grudge and a laptop.

Add nuclear weapons whose command structure is suddenly ambiguous.

Add diseases, real and manufactured, released to sow chaos by regimes eager to carve up the carcass of the American empire before someone else claims it.

Add fear. Add drought. Add fire.

Add lies.

And stir.

This isn’t a Tom Clancy novel.

This isn’t a prepper fantasy.

This is what happens when a government built on consensus loses its ability to consent.

We’ve been trained to think of civil war in terms of Gettysburg and Antietam.

But the next one won’t look like that.

It’ll look like Syria.

Like Yugoslavia.

Like Ukraine.

Like Lebanon in 1975, where Christian militias and Muslim factions and foreign powers turned one of the most beautiful countries on Earth into a graveyard that smelled of smoke and gun oil and the end of things.

The next civil war will be digital and tribal and sudden.

It will be declared not by Lincoln but by TikTok and Fox News.

It will be fought not on battlefields, but on highways and Wi-Fi and gas lines and court dockets and supermarket aisles.

It will not be brother against brother.

It will be neighbor against neighbor, algorithm against algorithm, drone against protest, truth against power, and power against everyone.

And in the chaos, people will scream for order.

They will beg for order.

And some strongman will appear.

He won’t be Trump.

He’ll be younger.

Sharper.

Hungrier.

A Tom Cotton or a Josh Hawley or some asshole we haven’t even met yet, raised in the bowels of corporate-funded think tanks and groomed for the moment America breaks.

He’ll offer “unity.”

He’ll offer “peace.”

And he’ll take what remains of the Constitution and feed it into a shredder made of applause and fear.

He will come, and we will let him.

Because Americans are not special.

We are not immune to history.

We are not chosen.

We are not different.

We are Rome in the 5th century, decadent and divided, watching the aqueducts crumble while we chant slogans and sharpen knives.

We are the USSR in 1991, holding onto a flag while the ground splits beneath us.

We are whatever comes next, and we are not ready.

And when it comes—when the sirens replace the debates, when the tanks roll down Main Street not as a parade but as a warning—some of us will remember what we lost.

We’ll remember the dream. The idea.

We’ll remember that once, however flawed and hypocritical and blood-soaked it was, the idea of America meant something.

It meant the possibility of self-government. Of progress. Of dignity.

It meant something more than flags and guns and courts packed with perjurers.

It meant the attempt.

And now we stand at the edge of that attempt.

And we are failing.

The United States was beautiful.

At moments.

In dreams. In songs. In potential.

But it was never unbreakable.

And the people trying to bend it are forcing it to break.

I never thought I’d live to see it.

But now I worry we all will.

So tell me…

Am I lying?

#technical state of civil war

0 notes

securelifetimelegacy · 2 months ago

Text

#Secure Lifetime Legacy

0 notes

under0-0s · 4 months ago

Note

Tony Stark had survived cave imprisonment, alien invasions, and congressional hearings, but nothing—nothing—could’ve prepared him for the sheer, soul-wrecking chaos that was Steve Rogers circling him like that.

It wasn’t threatening. It wasn’t even remotely aggressive. But it was… intense. Like being studied by something ancient and reverent.

And when he mentioned his kid, Tony's brain short-circuited for a solid three seconds. His kid. Steve Rogers, dad. Why the hell did that do things to him?

“Oh. So you’re saying… emotional intelligence and dad energy? Dangerous combo, Cap. That should come with a warning label.”

But the words were air. The moment Steve stepped behind him—close enough to feel the warmth of his breath brushing the curve of his ear—Tony forgot how to exist as a coherent entity.

And then those hands—those hands—on his arms, warm and firm and goddamn steady, adjusting his stance like Tony was just some flustered art student and Steve was about to sketch him topless in a sunlit atelier or something. Tony could barely breathe.

“Like this, see?”

No, but I’m seeing stars, thanks.

His throat went dry. His heart? Waging a full-on rebellion. “Yeah. Got it. Hands… elbows… uh, perpendicular. Got it. Totally got it.”

The soft hum Steve let out practically rattled through him, low and thoughtful and way too close. Tony barely managed to track him as he moved around again, crouched low, touched his foot—

Which, by the way, should’ve been a completely neutral action. But Tony was officially past the point of rational brain activity. Especially when Steve straightened up again with that quiet authority in his voice, like everything he said was scripture.

“Balance,” Tony echoed dumbly. “Right. Gotta be balanced. Can’t get kicked over.”

He cleared his throat and finally dared to look up at Steve again—eyes slightly wider, lips parted, pulse riotous in his neck. “Okay, I’m just gonna say it. You’re really good at this. Like... absurdly good. And not just the punching part. The whole...get in the zone, thing...it's...refreshing to hear."

His gaze didn’t leave Steve’s. If anything, he leaned into it. And for the first time all evening, Tony didn’t feel like dancing around it.

“I don’t know what we’re doing here exactly, Rogers,” he said, voice lower now, steadier, smoother, “but whatever it is—it’s not just sparring. And I’m not sure I want it to be.”

He let the silence stretch between them, thick and electric.

“...Unless you do want it to be,” Tony added, voice dipped like velvet, his mouth curving into something almost daring, “in which case, feel free to pin me down and call it a training accident.”

It was a few days after their last encounter. Steve had been, to say it simply, excited for their plans. He had spent hours making sure everything was fixed, in working order, and perfect to be used. He'd do nothing less for Tony Stark. He'd go as far as to say they were sort of becoming friends again. Friendly banter over texts and such. Even if Steve wasn't 100% sure how to use a phone half the time. He honest to God wasn't sure if Tony would show up though. Not because he didn't trust the man, but because of a squabble they'd had earlier that involved Bucky. Bucky and Steve were friends, and they had been for years, but there had never really been romantic tension between them, and if there had been it wasn't anywhere near what he felt with Tony. While he wasn't sure it was feelings he had for Tony, he knew it was something that wasn't quite the normal amount friends felt for other friends. It was more, surpassing it by many levels. If Tony didn't show up, he'd be disappointed, sure, but he'd also understand. He'd probably end up training on his own, which usually ended up with broken punching bags and the sand inside of it spread across the floor. He'd even had a music app open- Spotify. He was ready for Tony to choose the music, like he said he'd let him do. But as the time ticked on, and the hall remained empty, the man slumped down into his chair and put his phone face down. " Of Course he's not coming, Steven. You should've been... better? Nicer, maybe." He grumbled to himself. He thought back to a few days ago when he'd first come to Tony, when he first tried to fix things. Maybe Tony was just in a bad place right now, since he'd lost his engagement with Pepper. That was probably why he wasn't showing up, right? It had nothing to do with Bucky. Then he thought back to that spark. That spark was something phenomenal. It was amazing, warming. Eye-opening. It made him feel things he didn't know he could feel, it had made him think back to times with Peggy. This was like that but different- stronger. Like tidal waves instead of smaller ones or shockwaves instead of small jolts. And he'd been thinking about it day in and day out- ever since he'd seen him. Tony was quite literally the only thing on his mind. And he really hoped he showed up.

@thelittleguyfrombrooklyn

Tony was late. Not “Tony’s fashionably late” kind of late. The kind of late where he’d stood in front of the mirror for fifteen minutes with his hand on the door, debating if this was a good idea.

If he was a good idea.

He hated the thought of disappointing Steve, especially now, when things were... tentatively okay. Healing. Barely stitched together, but not bleeding anymore. He hadn't forgotten the fight. Or the look in Steve's eyes when he mentioned Bucky. That familiar flare of something hot and stupid in Tony's chest—jealousy, he guessed—had nearly made him walk away then and there.

But he didn’t. He stayed. And now here he was, halfway down the hallway, holding a paper bag of overpriced smoothies and muttering under his breath like a lunatic.

“Just walk in, Stark. It’s not a big deal. It’s just Cap. Captain Rogers. Super Soldier. All-American Heartthrob. The human equivalent of a sunrise. No pressure.”

He paused just outside the training room door.

This was supposed to be simple—show up, spar a little, let Steve pick him up off the mat after he inevitably got tossed, maybe argue over music and pretend that their hands didn’t brush for longer than necessary. But it wasn’t simple. Not with the way Steve looked at him now. Not with the way Tony felt about it.

God, that spark. It was chemical. Electric. Like a match to gasoline.

And he missed it.

So he finally took a breath, shouldered open the door like he hadn’t spent the last twenty minutes psyching himself up, and stepped in with the most casual voice he could muster.

“You know,” he called out, spotting Steve slumped in the chair like a golden retriever left out in the rain, “if you wanted to listen to sad indie breakup songs alone in the dark, you could’ve just joined one of my old support groups.”

He held out the smoothies like a peace offering. “Pineapple kale. Don’t ask. The lady at the counter said it’s ‘good for emotions,’ and I figured we could both use that.”

His voice faltered just a bit at the end, but he covered it with a smirk.

“But hey. I showed. So what do I win? A dance? Or the privilege of being suplexed into the mat by America’s Favorite Shield-Wielder?”

42 notes · View notes

davidmariottecomics · 2 years ago

Text

Send in Your Qs!

Hi there!

This is a suuuuper short blog this week. It was going to be a "Stuff that Sucks" but probably because there is so much bad stuff going on, I'm not really up for doing that deep dive right now. But, y'know, please please please pay attention to what's happening at a local and national level. I reached out to my Senators to tell them the RESTRICT ACT is bullshit. And for some reason, 25 Senators are co-sponsoring it and should be appropriately shamed for such an action. Again, that's only one small of the larger puzzle, but as I said to my senators, it seems increasingly the U.S. is facing on a congressional and judicial level (which is it's own problem...), decisions that are polarizing simply because they will either define things for the better or for the worse and many of the decisions being made have been for the worse.

Anyway, like I said, I'll be back to talk more about that soon, but for the moment, let's talk about what's coming up!

Next week: I'm finally actually going to do another Ask Me (Almost) Anything blog! I've been teasing for a while, but next week I'm actually going to do it. I'll be soliciting questions on the comments of the website version of this blog or at my blog announcement tweet on Twitter. As usual, the rules are pretty simple. Requests for work/portfolio reviews will be disregarded, sorry. There are some things that I can't answer for confidentiality reasons. If your question isn't chosen, chances are, I just can't answer it. Questions about what it's like to work in comics, my personal life (within reason), and wacky hypotheticals--like what's more intimidating: one dog correctly riding a motorcycle or a bunch of dogs sharing a sidecar?--are appreciated.

And hope everyone is having a peaceful Ramadan, Easter, Passover, or just weekend!

What I enjoyed this week: Blank Check (Podcast), Honkai Impact (Video game), Bobobo-bo Bo-bobo (Anime), Mass Effect (Video game), The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog (Video game--I've only played the first half-ish, so no spoilers, please), Teen Titans Go (Cartoon), Poker Face (TV show, finally finished the first season), Forest Hills Bootleg Society by Dave Baker and Nicole Goux (Comic--it's very good!), Devil House by John Darnielle (Book)

New Releases this week (4/5/2023): Sonic the Hedgehog #1 5th Anniversary Edition (Editor)

New Releases next week (4/12/2023): Quiet week from me! Enjoy another comic!

Announcements:

I don't know if I can talk about it just yet, but watch this space in the very near future for an upcoming in-person appearance. I might have more things to announce soon too, so definitely consider this a tease!

I was a guest on Becca's Twitch livestream, playing The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog. You can catch that on YouTube (and subscribe there and on Twitch for more of this kind of fun)!

Wanna practice your sequential art skills and/or just do something kinda silly and fun? A few weeks back, Josh Burcham was sharing this really great thread from Scott Gray comparing Steve Ditko and Gene Colan's takes on the same script. It's a lot to see, especially since Gene was given twice the page count to tell it, but it's also just fascinating to see how wildly different two creators can interpret the same script. Josh suggested doing a new version where people draw from the same one-page script and I volunteered to write something for it! Here're the scripts (I did two so there's a robot one and a not-robot one) and if you're interested in participating, just draw what suits your fancy. They're meant to be loose and open to interpretation--so feel free to cut what isn't working, combine panels, rework things, etc! If you do it, please share with Josh and me!

Lastly, I haven't exactly worked out how all I'm going to go about it, but you may've seen last week, I hit 4000 Twitter followers (and that number kept growing) and I hosted an art share. Check out the thread. There are a ton of very cool artists over there to go follow and hire and work with! I've talked a lot recently about how things are really difficult as social media is increasingly segmented and visibility is made harder on the existing platforms. I can't independently solve that problem, but I am going to be trying to do more stuff like this more often, be it on the remains of Twitter or adding a weekly round-up of cool stuff I saw this week to this blog or something else!

Pic of the Week: While we were streaming this week, Tiansheng decided that he wanted to sleep on Becca's bag. Why? Who knows! But he really hammed it up.

#ask me almost anything #but next week #comics #comics editorial #restrict act #cute cats #comic scripts #murder of sonic

5 notes · View notes

mostlysignssomeportents · 6 years ago

Text

VICTORY! New Free File rules ban tax-prep firms from hiding their offerings, allow IRS to compete with them (a love-letter to Propublica)

Six months ago, Propublica began beating the drum about "Free File," a bizarre, corrupt arrangement between the IRS and the country's largest tax-prep firms that ended up costing the poorest people in America millions and millions of dollars, every single year.

The scam is one of those baroque, ultimately boring and complex stories that generally dies in the public imagination despite its urgency, because "boring and urgent" is the place where the worst people can do the worst things with the least consequences.

With that warning, here's a short summary: in most wealthy countries, the tax authority fills out your tax return for you, using the information your employer already has to file every time it pays your wages. If all the numbers look right to you, you just sign the bottom of the form and send it back, without paying a tax preparer. If, on the other hand, you want to claim extra deductions, or if something complicated is going on with your finances, you can throw away that free tax return and fill in a form from scratch, either on your own or with the help of a professional.

When Americans asked to have the same courtesy extended to them -- a move that would save the vast majority of Americans millions and millions of dollars they were currently paying to the likes of HR Block and Intuit/Turbotax, every single year of their entire working lives -- the tax-prep industry mobilized to kill the proposal. The industry (which is highly concentrated and dominated by a small handful of firms whose top execs have mostly done time in all their competitors' board rooms, making them into essentially one giant company whose different divisions have different shareholders) lobbied the IRS very hard, and won a resounding victory.

That victory is called "Free File." Under Free File, each tax prep company is required to serve a slice of working Americans with free, online tax-preparation. The arrangement was hailed as a victory for public-private partnerships, harnessing the efficiency of the private sector to perform this public duty of the state. Importantly, it meant that the IRS would not expand its headcount or budget, both of which had been slashed by successive right-wing presidents and their legislative enablers. The move was cheered by anti-tax extremists like Grover Nordquist, who was delighted by the "efficiency" of you saving a bunch of pieces of paper the government already had, typing them into an online form, and hoping that a company's website came up with the same calculations that the government had already made about your tax-bill.

Part of the Free File deal banned the IRS from creating a competing offer and it banned the IRS from advertising the existence of the program or telling people where to find the free offering.

As soon as the ink was dry on Free File, the tax-prep companies set about to sabotage it. Intuit -- a massive company led by a bizarre cult figure -- and its competitors hid their Free File offerings deep in their sites, and used the "robots.txt" system to instruct search engines to hide them. They took out search ads for the phrase "Free File" that directed users to paid offerings with the word "free" in their names. They created "Free File" systems that would make you go through hours of work entering your data before surprising you with a notice that you didn't qualify for Free File because you'd paid interest on a student loan (or some other normal thing) and then ask you if you wanted to pay to keep your work and finish your tax-return in the non-free system.

There's a simple name for this kind of activity: fraud.

But it was a fraud in plain sight, one that went on for years and years, and which created a stealth tax on the majority of Americans, which they had to remit not to the IRS, but to the tax-prep companies, which used the money to lobby to make it even harder to get away from handing them your money every year.

Enter Propublica, whose relentless reporting did the seemingly impossible: it made a complicated, boring important thing into something that millions of Americans cared about. Something they cared about so deeply that they actually managed to shame the IRS into taking action.

Remember, the IRS is an administrative agency, under the direct control of the Trump administration. That means its commander-in-chief is a guy who said dodging his taxes means that he's "smart." While the IRS has many good, hardworking staffers, it has also been demoralized and gutted by the right, who have convinced millions of poor people that it's somehow in their interests if it's easier for rich people to duck their taxes.

Despite all this, the IRS has enacted new Free File rules: first, these rules ban tax-prep companies from hiding their Free File offerings, and it bans them from using deceptive names for non-Free File offerings (Turbotax will no longer be allowed to confuse Americans by offering "Turbotax Free" -- which is not free -- as a competitor to "Turbotax Free File," which is).

Second, the rule allows the IRS to develop its own competing Free File product, which means that the government agency that already knows how much tax you owe will allow you to review its findings each year and then either challenge them, or simply click OK, without paying a single cent of tax to Intuit or HR Block, and free you from filling in lengthy, bureaucratic forms.

This outcome is nothing short of miraculous: it did not come as the result of Congressional action. It did not come as the result of the Trump administration's inattention (the release came out the same day that the Trump administration revised its tax rules to allow money launderers to retain billions in the loot they've stashed offshore).

It came about as the result of fucking journalism. Propublica wrote its way into a better world, with relentless, deep, accessible reporting that made this boring, important thing come to life.

I am sympathetic to the idea that talking about politics isn't doing politics, but that's not entirely true. Learning about what's going on and telling the people you know about it and getting them to tell others is part of how we make change. Propublica's excellent reporting wouldn't have mattered if people hadn't read it -- and talked about it.

And Propublica has done this repeatedly over the past year, deeply reporting on naked, grotesque corruption in ways so vivid and undeniable that they actually changed things, and not in some abstract, boring way, but in ways that matter to the immediate, lived experience of real people who had been brutalized and poisoned and jailed and mistreated with impunity, for years, until Propublica wrote about it.

Here are some examples, just from the stories I paid attention to this year (Propublica does so much good work that I can't manage to cover all of it):

* Reformed South Carolina's "magistrate judge" system that let "judges" with no legal background and less training than barbers sentence poor people (most of them Black) to prison in defiance of their constitutional rights;

* Dismantled Illinois's system of Quiet Rooms where special ed kids were put into solitary confinement, sometimes for days at a time;

* Shamed a "Christian" hospital into ending its practice of suing thousands of patients, many of them its own employees, for inability to pay their medical debts, and forcing it to jettison the private army of debt collectors it kept on its payroll.

* Killed an Illinois scam whereby affluent parents temporarily gave up custody of their own children so they could steal college grants earmarked for poor children;

* Got two Louisiana cops fired for encouraging people to murder Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez;

In addition, Propublica has done lots of reporting that hasn't yet created political transformations, but has changed our debate and laid the groundwork for change to come: called attention to the penniless hero of the ransomware epidemic; discredited a "walking polygraph" system used by police forces to frame their preferred suspects with sheer junk science; documented the link between pharma company bribes and doctors' prescribing; named every former lobbyist in the Trump administration; tracked every penny of the 2008 bailout money; documented Wayne LaPierre's self-dealing from the NRA's war-chests; documented the grifty conservative PACs that scammed millions out of scared old white people with racist Obama conspiracies and then kept the money for themselves; published a blockbuster story on the theft of southern Black families' ancestral lands through a legal grift called "heirs' property"; debunked the "aggression detection" mics being installed in America's classrooms; outed a "ransomware consultant" that was working with ransomware crooks to simply pay the ransom, while pretending that they were able to get you your files back without enriching the crooks who locked them up; named and shamed Alabama sheriffs who lost their re-election bids and then spent thousands of public dollars on frisbees or stole discretionary funds, or destroyed food earmarked for prisoners, or drilled holes in all the department computers' hard-drives in a form of "vindictive hazing"; followed the payday lender industry to a Trump hotel where it staged an annual conference, funneling millions to the president's personal accounts shortly before Trump reversed Obama's curbs on predatory lending; documented how TSA body-scanners single out Black women for humiliating, discriminatory hair-searches; revealed the secret history of wealthy people destroying the IRS's Global High Wealth Unit; and did outstanding work on the Sackler family, a group of billionaire opioid barons whose products kickstarted the opioid epidemic that has now claimed more American lives than the Vietnam war.

2019 was a dumpster-fire of a year and 2020 could be worse -- or it could be the dawn that breaks after our darkest hour. Finding Propublica's victory lap on Free File on New Year's Day was just the sunrise I needed to give me hope for the year to come. Sometimes, simply finding the truth and telling it to the people can make a change.

I'm a Propublica donor, and an avid reader. I admit that sometimes when I see that PP has published another 15,000-word expose, I am slightly dismayed at the thought that I'm about to lose 1-2 hours of my life to digesting and writing up the new story, but that dismay is always overcome by excitement at the thought that they have turned over a new rock and found something genuinely awful beneath it, and that, with all our help, we can sterilize that foetid sludge with blazing sunshine.

https://boingboing.net/2019/12/31/go-propublica-go.html

7K notes · View notes

lastsonlost · 5 years ago

Text

All this over the Japanese liking a game they don't like...

Ghost of Tsushima opens with a grand wide shot of samurai, adorned with impressively detailed suits of armor, sitting atop their horses. There we find Jin, the protagonist, ruminating on how he will die for his country. As he traverses Tsushima, our hero fights back the invading Mongolian army to protect his people, and wrestles with the tenets of the Bushido code. Standoffs take advantage of perspective and a wide field of view to frame both the samurai and his opponent in something that, more often than not, feels truly cinematic. The artists behind the game have an equally impeccable reference point for the visuals: the works of legendary filmmaker Akira Kurosawa

“We really wanted to pay respect to the fact that this game is so totally inspired by the work of this master,” director Nate Fox said in a recent interview with IndieWire. At Entertainment Weekly, Fox explained how his team at Sucker Punch Productions suggested that the influence ran broadly, including the playable black-and-white “Kurosawa Mode” and even in picking a title. More specifically, he noted that Seven Samurai, one of Kurosawa’s most well-known works, defined Fox’s “concept of what a samurai is.” All of this work went toward the hope that players would “experience the game in a way as close to the source material as possible.”

But in embracing “Kurosawa” as an eponymous style for samurai adventures, the creatives behind Ghost of Tsushima enter into an arena of identity and cultural understanding that they never grapple with. The conversation surrounding samurai did not begin or end with Kurosawa’s films, as Japan’s current political forces continue to reinterpret history for their own benefit.

Kurosawa earned a reputation for samurai films as he worked steadily from 1943 to 1993. Opinions of the director in Japan are largely mixed; criticism ranges from the discussion of his family background coming from generations of samurai to accusations of pandering to Western audiences. Whether intentional or not, Kurosawa became the face of Japanese film in the critical circles of the 1950s. But he wasn’t just a samurai stylist: Many of the director’s films frame themselves around a central conflict of personal ideology in the face of violence that often goes without answer — and not always through the lives of samurai. In works like Drunken Angel, The Quiet Duel, or his 1944 propaganda film The Most Beautiful, Kurosawa tackles the interpersonal struggles of characters dealing with sickness, alcoholism, and other challenges.

His films endure today, and not just through critical preservation; since breaking through to the West, his visual ideas and themes have become fodder for reinterpretation. You can see this keenly in Western cinema through films like The Magnificent Seven, whose narrative was largely inspired by Seven Samurai. Or even A Fistful of Dollars, a Western epic that cleaved so closely to Kurosawa’s Yojimbo that director Sergio Leone ended up in a lawsuit with Toho Productions over rights issues. George Lucas turned to Kurosawa’s The Hidden Fortress in preparation for Star Wars; he’d eventually repay Kurosawa by helping to produce his surreal drama Dreams.

Ghost of Tsushima is part of that lineage, packing in action and drama to echo Kurosawa’s legacy. “We will face death and defend our home,” Shimura, the Lord of Tsushima, says within the first few minutes of the game. “Tradition. Courage. Honor. These are what make us.” He rallies his men with this reminder of what comprises the belief of the samurai: They will die for their country, they will die for their people, but doing so will bring them honor. And honor, tradition, and courage, above all else, are what make the samurai.

Except that wasn’t always the belief, it wasn’t what Kurosawa bought whole cloth, and none of the message can be untangled from how center- and alt-right politicians in modern Japan talk about “the code” today.

The “modern” Bushido code — or rather, the interpretation of the Bushido code coined in the 1900s by Inazō Nitobe — was utilized in, and thus deeply ingrained into, Japanese military culture. An easy example of how the code influenced Imperial Japan’s military would be the kamikaze pilots, officially known as the Tokubetsu Kōgekitai. While these extremes (loyalty and honor until death, or capture) aren’t as present in the myth of the samurai that has ingrained itself into modern ultranationalist circles, they manifest in different yet still insidious ways.

In 2019, to celebrate the ushering in of the Reiwa Era, the conservative Liberal Democratic Party commissioned Final Fantasy artist Yoshitaka Amano to depict Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe as a samurai. Though described as being center-right, various members of the LDP have engaged in or have been in full support of historical revisionism, including the editing of textbooks to either soften or completely omit the language surrounding war crimes committed by Imperial Japan. Abe himself has been linked to supporting xenophobic curriculums, with his wife donating $9,000 to set up an ultranationalist school that pushed anti-Korean and anti-Chinese rhetoric. The prime minister is also a member of Japan’s ultraconservative Nippon Kaigi, which a U.S. congressional report on Japan-U.S. relations cited as one of several organizations that believe that “Japan should be applauded for liberating much of East Asia from Western colonial powers, that the 1946-1948 Tokyo War Crimes tribunals were illegitimate, and that the killings by Imperial Japanese troops during the 1937 ‘Nanjing massacre’ were exaggerated or fabricated.” The Nippon Kaigi, like Abe, have also pushed for the revision of Japan’s constitution — specifically, Article 9 — to allow Japan to reinstate its standing military.

This has been a major goal for Abe as his time as prime minister comes to a definite close in 2021. And from 2013 onward, the politician has made yearly trips to the Yasukuni shrine to honor the memory of war criminals, a status of which his own grandfather was accused, that died with the ethos of the modern Bushido code. Abe’s exoneration of these ideals has continued to spark reactionary nationalist sentiment, as illustrated with the Nippon Kaigi and their ultranationalist ideology. These traditionalist values have encouraged xenophobic sentiment in Japan, which was seen in the 2020 Tokyo elections with 178,784 votes going to Makoto Sakurai, leader of the Japan First Party, another ultranationalist group. Sakurai has participated in numerous hate speech demonstrations in Tokyo, often targeting Korean diaspora groups.

The preservation of the Bushido code that was highly popularized and utilized by Imperial Japan lives on through promotion by history revisionists, who elevate samurai to a status similar to that of the chivalric knight seen in Western media. They are portrayed as an honor-bound and noble group of people that cared deeply for the peasantry, when that was often not the case.

The samurai as a concept, versus who the samurai actually were, has become so deeply intertwined with Japanese imperialist beliefs that it has become difficult to separate the two. This is where cultural and historical understanding are important when approaching the mythology of the samurai as replicated in the West. Kurosawa’s later body of work — like the color-saturated Ran, which was a Japanese adaptation of King Lear, and Kagemusha, the story of a lower-class criminal impersonating a feudal lord — deeply criticized the samurai and the class system they enforced. While some films were inspired by Western plays, specifically Shakespeare, these works were critical of the samurai and their role in the Sengoku Period. They dismantled the notion of samurai by showing that they were a group of people capable of the same failings as the lower class, and were not bound to arbitrary notions of honor and chivalry.

Unlike Kurosawa’s blockbusters, his late-career critical message didn’t cross over with as much ease. In Western films like 2003’s The Last Samurai, the audience is presented with the picture of a venerable and noble samurai lord who cares only for his people and wants to preserve traditionalist values and ways of living. The portrait was, again, a highly romanticized and incorrect image of who these people were in feudal Japanese society. Other such works inspired by Kurosawa’s samurai in modern pop culture include Adult Swim’s animated production Samurai Jack and reinterpretations of his work like Seven Samurai 20XX developed by Dimps and Polygon Magic, which had also received the Kurosawa Estate’s blessing but resulted in a massive failure. The narratives of the lone ronin and the sharpshooter in American Westerns, for example, almost run in parallel.

Then there’s Ghost of Tsushima. Kurosawa’s work is littered with close-ups focused on capturing the emotionality of every individual actor’s performance, and panoramic shots showcasing sprawling environments or small feudal villages. Fox and his team recreate that. But after playing through the story of Jin, Ghost of Tsushima is as much of an homage to an Akira Kurosawa film as any general black-and-white film could be. The Kurosawa Mode in the game doesn’t necessarily reflect the director’s signatures, as the narrative hook and tropes found in Kurosawa’s work — and through much of the samurai film genre — are equally as important as the framing of specific shots.

“I don’t think a lot of white Western academics have the context to talk about Japanese national identity,” Tori Huynh, a Vietnamese woman and art director in Los Angeles, said about the Western discussion of Kurosawa’s aesthetic. “Their context for Japanese nationalism will be very different from Japanese and other Asian people. My experience with Orientalism in film itself is, that there is a really weird fascination with Japanese suffering and guilt, which is focused on in academic circles … I don’t think there is anything wrong with referencing his aesthetic. But that’s a very different conversation when referencing his ideology.”

Ghost of Tsushima features beautifully framed shots before duels that illustrate the tension between Jin and whomever he’s about to face off against, usually in areas populated by floating lanterns or vibrant and colorful flowers. The shots clearly draw inspiration from Kurosawa films, but these moments are usually preceded by a misunderstanding on Jin’s part — stumbling into a situation he’d otherwise have no business participating in if it weren’t for laid-out side quests to get mythical sword techniques or armor. Issues like this undermine the visual flair; the duels are repeated over and over in tedium as more of a set-piece than something that should have a component of storytelling and add tension to the narrative.

Fox and Sucker Punch’s game lacks a script that can see the samurai as Japanese society’s violent landlords. Instead of examining the samurai’s role, Ghost of Tsushima lionizes their existence as the true protectors of feudal Japan. Jin must protect and reclaim Tsushima from the foreign invaders. He must defend the peasantry from errant bandits taking advantage of the turmoil currently engulfing the island. Even if that means that the samurai in question must discard his sense of honor, or moral righteousness, to stoop to the level of the invading forces he must defeat.

Jin’s honor and the cost of the lives he must protect are in constant battle, until this struggle no longer becomes important to the story, and his tale whittles down to an inevitable and morally murky end. To what lengths will he go to preserve his own honor, as well as that of those around him? Ghost of Tsushima asks these questions without a truly introspective look at what that entails in relation to the very concept of the samurai and their Bushido code. This manifests in flashbacks to Jin’s uncle, Shimura, reprimanding him for taking the coward’s path when doing his first assassination outside of forced stealth segments. Or in story beats where the Khan of the opposing Mongol force informs Shimura that Jin has been stabbing enemies in the back. Even if you could avoid participating in these systems, the narrative is fixated on Jin’s struggle with maintaining his honor while ultimately trying to serve his people.

I do not believe Ghost of Tsushima was designed to empower a nationalist fantasy. At a glance, and through my time playing the game, however, it feels like it was made by outsiders looking into an otherwise complex culture through the flattening lens of an old black-and-white film. The gameplay is slick and the hero moments are grand, but the game lacks the nuance and understanding of what it ultimately tries to reference. As it stands, being a cool pseudo-historical drama is, indeed, what Ghost of Tsushima’s creators seemingly aimed to accomplish. In an interview with Famitsu, Chris Zimmerman of Sucker Punch said that “if Japanese players think the game is cool, or like a historical drama, then that’s a compliment.” And if there is one thing Ghost of Tsushima did succeed in, it was creating a “cool” aesthetic — encompassed by one-on-one showdowns with a lot of cinematic framing.

In an interview with The Verge, Fox said that “our game is inspired by history, but we’re not strictly historically accurate.” That’s keenly felt throughout the story and in its portrayal of the samurai. The imagery and iconography of the samurai carry a burden that Sucker Punch perhaps did not reckon with during the creation of Ghost of Tsushima. While the game doesn’t have to remain true to the events that transpired in Tsushima, the symbol of the samurai propagates a nationalist message by presenting a glossed-over retelling of that same history. Were, at any point, Ghost of Tsushima to wrestle with the internal conflict between the various class systems that existed in Japan at the time, it might have been truer to the films that it draws deep inspiration from. However, Ghost of Tsushima is what it set out to be: a “cool” period piece that doesn’t dwell on the reasonings or intricacies of the existing period pieces it references.

A game that so heavily carries itself on the laurels of one of the most prolific Japanese filmmakers should investigate and reflect on his work in the same way that the audience engages with other pieces of media like film and literature. What is the intent of the creator versus the work’s broader meaning in relation to current events, or the history of the culture that is ultimately serving as a backdrop to yet another open-world romp? And how do these things intertwine and create something that can flirt on an edge of misunderstanding? Ghost of Tsushima is a surface-level reflection of these questions and quandaries, sporting a lens through which to experience Kurosawa, but not to understand his work. It ultimately doesn’t deal with the politics of the country it uses as a backdrop. For the makers of the game, recreating Kurosawa is just black and white.

172 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch29. The Sokovia Accords Part 2: No, You Move.

Summary: Whilst discussing the proposed accords, Steve gets some bad news which makes everything pale into insignificance. And then, another ghost from his past comes back to haunt them.

Warnings: Bad language, Smut! (NSFW, Under 18s) Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Elements of this have been reworked/rewritten…for reasons which will become apparent at some point! And I’ve also added in the scene with Natasha at the church. I love the banner and edit too from @angrybirdcr.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 29 Part 1

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Steve had hoped that the more casual setting would defuse the seriousness of the situation. But that went out of the window an hour or so later when Rhodey and Sam started going at it. Steve was sat in the arm chair carefully reading through the accords packet with a deep frown, Katie perched on the arm of the chair reading over his shoulder. Tony was reclined on the chaise to their right with his hand covering his face as Sam and Rhodey argued, Natasha sitting patiently down by Tony’s legs waiting for them to be done. Vision and Wanda were on the sofa to their other side, neither having said much.

“Secretary Ross has a Congressional medal of Honour,” argued Rhodey from behind the chair. Katie turned to look at them both. “Which is one more than you have.” He mocked Sam.

“So let’s say we agree to this thing. How long is it gonna be before they Low-Jack us like a bunch of common criminals?” Sam shot back.

“A hundred an seventeen countries want to sign this. A hundred and seventeen, Sam, and you’re just like, no, that’s cool. We got it.”

“How long are you going to play both sides?” Sam snapped.

“I have an equation.” Vision spoke loudly before Rhodey could reply, causing both men to quiet down and everyone to look at him. Steve lifted his head from the packet bringing his arm up to rest on Katie’s thigh.

“Oh, now this will clear it up,” said Sam sarcastically.

“In the eight years since Mr Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. During the same period the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.” Vision steeped his fingers together as he looked around a everyone.

“Are you saying it’s our fault?” Steve asked tensely, his hand on Katie’s leg became heavier.

“I’m saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict breeds catastrophe. Oversight isn’t an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.”

“Boom,” Rhodey exclaimed, believing that Vision had solidified his point.

Katie shook her head sighing,

“Sorry Vision, I disagree.” Everyone’s attention now turned to her. “Being supervised is one thing. But from what I’ve read these Accords want us to give up total control of what we do and when we do it.” She paused as Steve’s arm slid from her leg to wrap around her back. She then turned her attention to Tony and looked at him as he remained still, hand over his face. "Clearly this has been in the pipeline for some time now, so why are we only just hearing about it?”

Tony glanced at her from underneath his hand, not offering an answer, as she continued.

“And less than a week to come to a decision on something like this? They’re trying to back us into a corner without giving us any proper time to discuss or negotiate the terms and its wrong.” She finished simply, shaking her head and crossing her arms.

“Boom.” Sam repeated from behind her.

“Tony.” Natasha addressed him as he removed his hand from his face. “You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper verbal,”

“It’s because he’s already made up his mind,” Katie raised her eyebrow.

“Kiddo, you know me so well.” Tony scoffed then groaned, standing up and moving over to the kitchen area with a sigh "Actually, I’m nursing an electromagnetic headache. That’s what’s going on. It’s just pain. It’s discomfort.” Another frustrated sigh escaped him as he faffed with something in the sink. “Who’s putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?”

Tony moved to the other countertop slapping down the coffee mug and coffee pot before pulling his phone from his pocket and dropping it onto the fruit basket, then turning it on revealing the hologram of a young man.

“Oh, that’s Charles Spencer, by the way,” said Tony with fake carelessness. “He’s a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA, had a floor-level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul before he parked it behind a desk; see the world, maybe be of service. Charlie didn’t want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn’t go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun.” He spat sarcastically, “He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor guess where: Sokovia.”

He slammed his mug down as he stared round the room in anger, whilst Katie looked over at Wanda who bowed her head the moment her home was mentioned.

“He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. We won’t know because we dropped a building on him while we were 'kicking ass’.” Tony ran a hand down his face before taking a drink of his coffee. “There’s no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I’m game. If we can’t accept limitations, if we’re boundary-less, we’re no better than the bad guys.” He concluded, walking around the counter to lean back against it holding his arms over his chest.

“Tony,” Steve began gently. “If someone dies on your watch, you don’t give up.”

“Who said we’re giving up?” Tony questioned.

“We are for not taking responsibility for our actions.” Continued Steve. “This document just shifts the blame.”

“I’m sorry, Steve. That is dangerously arrogant.” Rhodey interrupted “This is the United Nations we’re talking about. It’s not the World Security Council, it’s not SHIELD, it’s not HYDRA.”

“No, but its run by people with agendas, and agendas change.” Steve shot back, earnestly.

“That’s good.” Tony answered, re-joining the group. “That’s why I’m here. Look, Cap, me and Kiddo, when we realized what Stark weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, we shut it down and stopped manufacturing.”

“Yeah, but Tony, we chose to do that.” Katie jabbed at her chest as she blazed at her brother, her voice gathering momentum and volume. “If we sign these then the next time something like that happens we won’t have the right to choose!“

"What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go?” Steve continued his hand gently rubbing at Katie’s back. He was glad they were on the same page, but he didn’t want her getting upset and falling out with Tony. “What if there is somewhere we need to go and they don’t let us?” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.”

Tony looked down at the couple who both stared back at him. He rolled his eyes again. Of course they would be united on this, they were united on everything. But there were bigger things at stake here. If they didn’t agree, they’d be forced to retire, and the team would be split up. And he couldn’t let that happen.

“If we don’t do this now, it’s gonna be done to us later. That’s the fact. That won’t be pretty,” Tony explained, his tone almost pleading.

“You’re saying they’ll come for me?” Asked Wanda quietly.

“We would protect you,” Vision added placing a gentle hand on Wanda’s shoulder.

“Maybe Tony’s right.” Natasha spoke, turning her eyes to both Katie and Steve, trying to get them to see her point. Katie looked at her incredulously, and Steve’s mouth fell open a little in surprise. “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off-”

“Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?” Sam frowned, interrupting her in disbelief.

“I’m just…reading the terrain.” She sighed. “We have made some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.”

“Focus up – I’m sorry, did I just mishear you, or did you agree with me?” Tony looked at her.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “I want to take it back now.” She groaned but Tony was quick to cut in.

“No, you can’t retract it.” He said, waving a finger at her. “Thank you. Unprecedented. Case closed I win.”

As Katie shot some annoyed response back to Tony, something along the lines of him being ‘an egotistical, arrogant prick’, Steve felt his phone going in his pocket. He shifted slightly to pull it out and glanced down. It was a message from Peggy’s son, Michael.

‘She’s gone, in her sleep.’

As the meaning behind the words sunk in, his throat tightened, and suddenly the damned accords didn’t matter anymore. Taking a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest, he felt the familiar sting of tears in his in his eyes but he didn’t want to break down, not here, not in front of the team.

“I have to go.” He breathed out, handing the Accords to Katie before standing and leaving the room quickly without meeting anyone’s eye.

He made it to the stairwell, leaning against the railings, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself down but he couldn’t. The tears began to fall and he slumped down onto one of the steps. Which was where Katie found him a few minutes later, shocked to see his shoulders were shaking. She said nothing until she had made her way down to him, wedging herself on the step beside him between him and the wall.

“Stevie?” She asked quietly inspecting his face, seeing the tears across his cheeks. “Sweetheart, what is it.”

“It’s err..” He sniffed and wiped at his nose with a finger, not looking at her “It’s Peg. She’s gone.”

“Oh, no.” Katie muttered, dropping her head. Poor Peggy. She had been quite ill over the last few weeks and the Doctors had said it was unlikely she would recover, but the both of them had been hoping to get to see her to say their goodbyes. Katie felt the tears sting her eyes as she opened up her arms and Steve immediately fell into them. Sometimes it was much too easy to forget how young and inexperienced life wise he actually was at heart and Katie simply held him, as she felt his tears hit her neck. Gently she ran her fingers through his hair as they sat still, not saying a word.

"Will you come with me to the funeral?” His voice was hoarse and muffled but she heard him anyway

“Of course I will.” she said looking at him as he pulled away, his eyes red. She reached up to wipe his face with the back of her hand as he rest his forehead against hers. “Of course I will.”

***** London was caught in the middle of a summer storm when they arrived, four days later. The wind and rain whipped Katie’s hair about her face as they stepped from the StarkJet onto the tarmac of Gatwick Airport. They made their way towards the waiting car, Steve’s large hand taking her smaller, and somewhat colder, one in his as they walked, Sam pacing at his other side. The drive to the hotel was filled mainly with Sam and Katie chatting as she pointed out various landmarks to the man, Steve remaining silent on the whole apart from chipping in when he was spoken to.

His sombre mood continued through to the evening, and when Katie told him that Sam was meeting up with some of his old Air Force buddies and suggested that the two of them head out for something to eat, he was torn between wanting to go out and try to enjoy some time with her, and this strange urge he felt to simply curl up in the relative safety of the hotel room with her, alone. And then there was the war which was raging inside him, an internal battle in the depth of his conscious and mind. He was married to Katie, he loved her, more than he’d ever loved anyone. And yet, here he was grieving so much for a woman who, when all was said and done, he hadn’t actually known for that long. Peggy was his past, Katie was his here and now, his future, his forever. So why did he feel this way?

“Stevie.” Katie’s voice gently shook him from his thoughts and he turned away from the view of the Thames he’d been observing through the floor to ceiling window of their suite and faced her. “We don’t have to go anywhere to eat if you don’t want to.”

“I’m sorry.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I just, I feel…”

“Upset? Tired of pretending you’re okay?” She supplied and he gave a little huff of laugher, shaking his head as he looked at the soft, deep blue carpet of the room.

“You know, are you sure you don’t have some kind of secret mind reading power?” He looked at her once more and she smiled softly.

“No, I just know you.” She stepped forward and held out her arms and Steve moved to fall into them, his cheek resting on her head as he let out a shaky breath. “You don’t have to hide it in front of me, you know.” She pulled back to look at him, her hands cupping his face.

“I love you.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers in a soft kiss. “You know that, right?”

“Of course I do.” She frowned before her head tilted to the side as she considered what he had just said, suddenly understanding. “Wait, is that what’s bothering you? How I feel?”

His lack of response spoke volumes as he looked down once more, his large hands gently wrapping around her wrists, moving her hands to her side so he could lace his fingers between hers.

“Oh, Steve!” Katie shook her head and her fingers tightened around his. “You’ve every right to feel how you do, Peggy meant a lot to you.”

“She did, yeah, but so do you.” He glanced at her, his blue eyes shining with tears. “In fact, you mean more to me than anything else ever has. I just wanna be sure you know that.”

“If I didn’t know it, I wouldn’t have married you.” Katie shrugged simply. “But, Soldier, just because you love me the way you do, doesn’t mean that you never loved Peggy, or that you still can’t in some ways.” When he didn’t reply, Katie studied him for a moment, before she took a deep breath. “Steve, look at me, please.” He did as she asked and she gave him a soft smile. “It’s okay, I promise you I understand.”

He gave her another little smile as she stood on her toes to brush her lips against his. “Now, I’m gonna draw you a bath. You’re gonna get in, and you’re gonna relax.”

“Is that an order, Ma’am?” He smiled and Katie chuckled.

“Yeah, it is. And you know what else I’m gonna order? A fuck tonne of room service.”

It was Steve’s turn to chuckle as she smiled. “Then we can raid the mini-bar and bunker down for the evening. How’s that sound?”

Steve smiled, his hand reaching up to brush a piece of hair behind her ears. “It sounds okay, but would be a whole lot better if you said you were gonna join me in the bath.”

Katie smiled, her eyes flashing a little as he leaned down and captured her lips with his, the kiss slow and deep. Her arms slid up round his neck, fingers softly skating along his hairline and he let out a contented sigh as she broke away, his forehead pressing to hers, hands softly flexing on her hips. Without another word she pulled away before taking his hand, and gently leading him through the suite to the bathroom.

***** Steve didn’t sleep well that night. His mind was in overdrive, his subconscious showing him people he hadn’t seen in a very, very long time. He dreamt about Peggy, Bucky, Howard, the Howlies…and Katie. Even in dreams about his past she was there, ever present, just like she was in his life. When he woke up from a particularly vivid flashback about crashing back into the ice, he jerked bolt upright with a yell, his breathing desperate and ragged. Katie sat up beside him, her hand on his clammy back as she gently soothed him, her calm and quiet. Steve swallowed, turning to face her as she sat looking at him, concern etched on her face. She made to get out of bed to fetch him a glass of water but he stopped her, his large hand curling gently around her arm. He needed her, and he wasted no time at all in making sure she understood that. As she lay underneath him, her hands wrapped around his back, nails biting his skin, he fucked her, hard and fast, into the mattress, the relief washing over him like a tidal wave. When he evened out, he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him, his hand carding through her hair as hers traced random shapes over his chest. The pair of them lay still, gentle and loving touches and kisses being shared as they simply talking until the sun rose. And then Steve found himself back over his wife once more as he stuffed himself insider her again, only this time he made love to her, as softly and as gently as he could, needing to feel every single inch of her against him as he surrendered to that bliss that only she could ever make him feel.

They took a room service breakfast and at just before Eleven they met Sam in the Reception of the hotel and made their way to the church. Steve, who had been asked by Peggy’s family to be a pall bearer, hung back outside as Katie and Sam took their seats along the front pew of the Church. It wasn’t long before the choir began to sing and Katie turned as the procession walked down the aisle. Steve held the front right-hand corner of the coffin, carrying it with stiff steps, his cheeks wet, eyes red rimmed and full of tears. Katie felt Sam squeeze her shoulder, and she turned to face him briefly.

“My heart is breaking for him, Sam.” She whispered through her own tears as Sam dropped his hand to take hers, as they both watched the six men place the coffin at the front of the church. Sam released Katie’s hand with another gentle squeeze and they shuffled down to make room for Steve who took her left hand, seeking out her comfort and contact as he stared at the picture to the side of the coffin. It showed the Peggy he had known, back in the Forties, standing tall and proud in her uniform.

When the choir song ended they all sat, Steve staring down at his wife’s hand wrapped in his, and he began to play with her wedding and engagement rings, twirling them round her finger, his mind straying to his wedding and how he had told Katie at the toasts he was only strong because she made him that way. He was so glad she was with him now. Lost in his thoughts, he suddenly felt her hand contract around his, quite hard, and he looked up at her. When he did she nodded her head in the direction of the podium. Steve’s eyes followed then did a slight double take at who was stood there.

Agent Thirteen of Shield special service and his ex-neighbour.

“Margaret Carter was known to most as a founder of Shield.” The woman who’s name Steve recalled being told by Natasha was Sharon, began, sounding nervous. “But I just knew her as Aunt Peggy.”

Peggy’s Niece? Steve couldn’t believe his ears. All that time she had been living across the hall, spying on him…and she was Peggy’s niece?

“She had a photograph in her office, Aunt Peggy standing next to JFK. As a kid, that was pretty cool. But, it was a lot to live up to. Which is why I barely told anyone we were related.” Sharon glanced down at Steve, like she was offering him some form of explanation.

“I asked her once how she managed to master diplomacy and espionage at a time when no one wanted to see a woman succeed at either.” Sharon swallowed before she continued, her voice becoming stronger. “And she said, 'Compromise when you can. But when you can’t, don’t. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move, it is your duty, to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye and say, 'No, you move.”

Katie glanced at Steve then to Sam, the three of them sharing a knowing glance. Those words were powerful, especially given the situation with the Accords. And for Steve, it was almost like Peggy was speaking to him, still giving him advice even in her death.

Despite the utter sorrow he was feeling, Steve couldn’t help but smile at the sentiment.

Thanks Peg…

*****

Katie watched as Steve leaned against the end of one of the pews, lost in his thought. He’d by passed the part where they were actually putting Peggy into the ground, saying he didn’t want to see it so instead, Katie had given him a moment to pay his respects along, waiting for him to give her some direction as to what he wanted to next.

As always, he seemed to know she was there before she even made a sound and he looked up, giving her a small smile as she walked down the middle of the church aisle towards him.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He smiled as she stopped in front of him, opening her arms to give him a hug.

“How you doing?” She asked softly, her lips brushing his temple as he pressed his face into her neck.

“I’m okay.” He assured her, pulling back. “Just, suppose it’s sunk in that she’s actually gone, you know.” Katie gave him a sad smile. “When I came out of the ice, I thought everyone I had known was gone. Then I found out that she was alive. I was just lucky to have her.”

“She had you back, too.” Katie looked at him.

“Yeah, and at least I knew where she was, unlike Bucky.”

“Don’t give up on him just yet, love.” Katie rubbed his arm as he placed a kiss to her forehead. Steve glanced once more to the front of the church and Katie followed his glance to look at the flowers placed on the alter.

“It was a nice service.” She said, her arm looping round his waist.

“Yeah, it was.” A familiar voice spoke and both of them whipped round to see Natasha strolling towards them. Steve let out a little scoff and looked down, shaking his head.

“You know, I thought I saw you before but convinced myself I was seeing things.”

“Well, I was sorta in the area.” She shrugged. There was a pause before Steve voiced what was on his mind since he’d left the compound a few days ago.

“Who else signed?” Steve asked.

“Tony. Rhodey. Vision.”

“Clint?” Katie asked.

Nat smiled slightly. “Says he's retired.”

“Wanda?” Steve looked at her.

“TBD” Nat answered. Katie looked at Steve before Nat took a deep breath. “I'm off to Vienna for the signing of the Accords. There's plenty of room on the jet.”

Steve sighed and bowed his head.

“Just because it's the path of least resistance doesn't mean it's the wrong path.” Nat continued. “Staying together is more important than how we stay together.”

“Are you trying to convince us or yourself?” Katie asked and Natasha merely held her gaze.

“What are we giving up to do it?” Steve shook his head as Natasha turned to him. “I'm sorry, Nat. I can't sign it.”

“Me neither.” Katie added. “Not as they stand.”

“I know.” Nat smiled.

“Then what are you doing here?” Steve looked at her.

“Well, like I said, I was in the area.” Nat’s eyes flicked to the alter. “Plus, knowing who she is and what she did. I might never have met her but, well, it felt right to pay my respects.” She then looked back at them both. “Plus, I wanted to see you, check you were okay.” She said the last part to Steve more than Katie and he gave her a little smile as she moved to give him a hug.

****

They decided to go to the wake, and Katie took the chance to seek out Sharon where she was standing among a group of people, making polite conversation but clearly looking for a way out, which Katie was happy to provide, squeezing her elbow gently, and gesturing with her head for the blonde woman to follow her.

“I really am sorry about Peggy,” Katie began as they settled at an empty table. “She was a phenomenal woman.”

"Thank you,” Sharon said softly. “That means a lot. You know she liked you?”

Katie chuckled “She told me once or twice.” “I think she was happy that Steve found someone.” Sharon smiled. “Someone that makes him happy.”

Katie glanced at where Steve and Sam were waiting at the bar. Steve shot her a glance over his shoulder and smiled softly, before Katie returned her attention to the woman opposite her.

“So this accords thing?” Sharon changed the subject “It’s really happening?”

“Looks that way, yeah.”

“And where do you stand on it?”

“I’m not signing” Katie shook her head. “Not the way they stand, that’s for sure. And seeing as they don’t seem to want to negotiate terms, it’s a non-starter.”

“Does Steve feel the same?”

Katie nodded. “And Sam.”

Before Sharon could question her further, Katie’s eyes flicked to a point over her shoulder and she gave a side smile as the boys approached.

“Ladies,” Sam baritone smoothly, sitting in the seat next to Sharon and setting down a drink in front of her. From the look on the blonde’s face, this surprised her, but she accepted nonetheless with a thanks. Steve sat next to Katie handing over another glass of wine, whilst pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“You okay?” She whispered before he pulled away completely. He nodded and cleared his throat.

“Yeah. I saw just telling Sam about what Nat said.”

“And I was cheering to an honourable discharge.” Sam snorted sarcastically as he raised his glass. “Again.”

“Sorry, for jumping in but, if you’re not signing the Accords then what does that mean for you all?” Sharon looked round the table

“I dunno.” Steve smiled softly, shaking his head.

“Ultimate fighting?” Sam cut in, and Steve snorted as Katie laughed. “I told you, you’d be great at it.”

"More like an early retirement.” Steve stated, a small smile playing on his face.

“Not really that early though is it, Cap?” Sam continued his ribbing “I mean like you are hundred or whatever…”

As was natural with these type of functions, a few hours later people started to leave and eventually Peggy’s children headed over to the table to say their goodbyes. As they all stood to offer their condolences once more, something Michael said about Peggy being a woman of many surprises, brought back something which had been weighing heavily on Steve’s mind since he had left the church.

When Sharon stated that she was heading back to her hotel, Steve suggested that she walked with them, but for the most of the short walk, he remained silent, brooding over his thoughts. And it was only when they reached the door to Sharon’s hotel that he spoke, telling Katie that he’d meet her and Sam in their hotel bar in a couple of minutes.

She shot him a puzzled look but he had simply shook his head in a silent instruction not to argue. So, she merely shrugged, linked her arm through Sam’s and they crossed the road and headed straight inside, crossing the lobby.

“What’s all that about?” Sam asked as he held the heavy wooden door open for her. Katie shrugged and stepped into the room.

“Beats me, he obviously has something on his mind.” She said, walking into the large wooden bar which curved along the back of the circular room. “Can I have…” she trailed off as she spotted the TV on the wall behind the bar tender, which was programmed to the BBC news.

Her eyes widened and she felt Sam stiffen besides her.

“Is this…is this live?” She asked the guy who was waiting to serve them. He nodded. “Can you turn the volume up?”

He nodded again and obliged.

“…at the moment we know that over 70 people have been injured and that number is rising. At least 12 are dead, including Wakanda’s King T'Chaka. Officials have released a video of a suspect who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. The infamous HYDRA agent, linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations.”

Katie swallowed as the picture of the suspect flashed across the screen. It looked like Bucky alright.

“Shit.” Sam said, from behind her.

“Go, get Steve.” She urged, “I need to call Tony.”

*****

“My mom tried to talk me out of enlisting, but, um, not Aunt Peggy. She bought me my first thigh holster.” Sharon smiled as they walked through the lobby.

“Very practical.” Steve nodded.

“And stylish.” Sharon smiled as she stopped by the elevator, pressing the call button before she turned to look at Steve.

“CIA has you stationed over here now?”

“In Berlin, Joint Terrorism Task Force.”

“Right. Right.” Steve nodded. “Sounds fun.”

“I know, right?” Sharon chuckled.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Steve took a deep breath, finally voicing what was on his mind. “When you were spying on me from across the hall…”

“You mean when I was doing my job?” Sharon interrupted but Steve ignored her.

“Did Peggy know?”

Sharon considered him for a moment, before she let out a gentle sigh.

“She kept so many secrets. I didn’t want her to have one from you.” Sharon lay her hand on his arm, and Steve felt the weight lift off his shoulders. He had been so scared that Peggy had been lying to him for the past few years, to hear that she hadn’t was a relief.

“Thanks for walking me back.” Sharon nodded to the elevator “Tell Katie and Sam I’m grateful.”

She moved to give Steve a hug, and he obliged, but the broke apart when they both heard footsteps running towards them.

“Steve…you gotta see this.” Sam urged and Steve frowned, looking at him, before he spotted Katie running into the lobby, and looking round.

He moved instantly towards her, and she spotted him, hurrying straight towards him.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He asked, his hands gently curling round her upper arms.

“There’s been a bomb in Vienna.” She explained, taking a deep breath. “A deliberate attack on the signing ceremony.”

Steve felt himself grow cold. “Is everyone okay?”

“I got through to Tony and they’re all safe but the King of Wakanda. He’s dead, Steve” Katie took a deep breath. “And…” She trailed off licking her lips as she took a deep breath.

“Katie, what is it?” Steve’s voice wasn’t unkind but it was firm as he looked at her, and she threw her head back, looking at the ceiling for a moment before, with a monumental effort, she looked back at him, swallowing deeply.

“It’s Bucky, Steve.” Her voice was almost a whisper. “It looks like he’s responsible.”

**** Chapter 30

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers fic #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

47 notes · View notes

josefavomjaaga · 4 years ago

Text

Helfert, Joachim Murat, Chapter 2, part 2

However, the British Congress Legation also used language very unfavourable to the King of Naples. When in the last days of September the Duke of Campochiaro appeared before Castlereagh to explain to him that "his monarch was prepared to let his troops clear all land beyond the borders of his kingdom, even the Marches promised to him by Austria, but that he would defend Naples itself to the last drop of blood, that he had at his command an armed force of 80,000 men, not counting the militia", the Lord replied evasively: "if King Joachim had intervened in earnest during the last war, his cause would have been different; but his dithering and vacillation had put all claims in suspense, and left open a question now to be decided solely from the standpoint of high policy; besides, he could only advise the King to keep as quiet as possible in the meantime, especially not to take any action against Sicily; any hostility on that side would be regarded by England as a case of war, and she would use all her strength against it" [Footnote 1]. The Duke of Wellington, then accredited to the court of Louis XVIII, and entirely drawn into its interests, most eagerly calculated where the troops could be obtained for a crusade against Naples: 10,000 Sicilians 10,000 Spaniards 12,000 Portuguese 15 to 20,000 from the British garrisons in the Mediterranean, "with such a force the enterprise might be ventured" [Footnote 2]. A pamphlet that appeared in London at this time defending Murat's claims seems to have made little impression in congressional circles.

One of the most ardent advocates in favour of the plan to expel the King of Naples was the representative of Great Britain in Palermo, who also received secret instructions from Castlereagh in the autumn of 1814, no doubt in accordance with Wellington's designs, to make enquiries about Murat's forces and about the mood prevailing in Naples on behalf of the Bourbons. A'Court's despatches spoke only of the "usurper" who should no longer be left on the throne, even though the envoy could not conceal the fact that "it would not be easy to give the matter a turn such that the dignity and faithfulness of the British Cabinet would not suffer shipwreck". Incidentally, it was thought in Palermo that nothing could be risked by an enterprise against Murat; every day, Ferdinand's ministers claimed, they received reports from the mainland saying that the impatience to see the ancestral king in possession of the country again could hardly be restrained. A'Court was furious when he heard that the British Consul Fagan, sent to Naples by Lord Bentinck, had assumed the position of Consul-General there, had gained admittance to the court, exchanged notes with the Minister Gallo, expressing a lively desire to strengthen the good understanding between the government of England and His Majesty's Majesty in Naples, and so on. He denounced him to Lord Castlereagh and at the same time recalled him to his former post in Palermo.

Already in the summer Castlereagh must already have uttered observations like the one mentioned earlier against King Joachim's representatives, which prompted the latter to draw up a memorandum on his attitude in the last campaign and to send it to the British First Secretary of State. This did little to improve his case. For Castlereagh obtained Nugent's and Bentinck's comments on the document, and each of them expressed himself more unfavourably about Murat than the other. "Once the allies had entered into certain obligations," the imperial general said, "they were obliged to fulfil them; but they were also relieved of all further considerations against Murat if he, for his part, had not observed them". Nugent now went through the Neapolitan account of the campaign of last spring point by point and everywhere came to the conclusion that King Joachim, by his strategic intervention, had not benefited but only harmed the allies in Upper Italy: "If the Neapolitan army had not moved, two Austrian battalions and a few squadrons would have sufficed to sweep the country clean, and if Murat, as he is pleased to claim, has conquered the country as far as the Po with his troops, this has been done at our expense, not that of our enemy".

Lord William considered the political rather than the military side, but came to similar conclusions as did the Austrian count. "Murat's policy," was Bentinck's brief opinion, "was calculated to save his crown, and so he always followed whoever seemed to emerge victorious from the struggle. At his court, as in his army, there were two parties at feud with each other and fighting for influence with him, a French and a Neapolitan one; he himself always remained a Frenchman at heart; he was of no use to the allies as a friend and, if fortune had turned his back on us, would have hastened our downfall as an enemy. Between the French and Neapolitan armies throughout the campaign there was obvious understanding; no hostile act was undertaken by either side against the other. A large part of the Neapolitan officers were burning with desire to compete with the French, but the King carefully avoided this. In the affair at Parma, March 6 to 8, the corps of General Nugent was, so to speak, sacrificed by Murat, and it has been said that a number of Neapolitan generals, because of the stain which this has placed on their militaristic character, have signed a letter to Murat" [Footnote 3].

To tell the truth, Murat's more than lax conduct of war in the last campaign was by no means the reason why people were speaking out against him more and more decidedly: it only offered a welcome excuse to be now able to turn away from him with decency, after he had been approached so often in the past. Even if, following the advice of his wise wife, he had been zealous in the interests of the Allies, he would not have been able to maintain the position he actually occupied. It must also be admitted that the "victrix causa", the cause which, after a quarter of a century of humiliations, defeats and losses of all kinds, was finally helped to victory, could have resulted in nothing else than Murat's removal from the throne, which he, too, owed only to the defeats and losses of his opponents at the time. Louis XVIII had hit the nail on the head when he exclaimed: "How can one tolerate a small usurpation after having put an end to a great one?

---

Footnote 1) Castlereagh to A’Court, Vienna October 2, 1814 X (III 2) p. 145 f.

Footnote 2) Wellington to Castlereagh September 12 and to Liverpool, December 25 1814, ibit, p.114 f., 226 — 228. „I concur very much in opinion with the King“, he writes to the First Lord of the Treasury, „that the chances of disturbance, particularly in this country, are very much increased by leaving Murat on the throne of Naples. If he were gone, Bonaparte in Elba would not be an object of great dread“. However, he asked the Minister of Foreign Affairs to not reveal anything about the entire plan for the time being: "The King is anxious that nothing should be said upon the subject at Vienna, until I shall receive an answer from England". In fact, the reply did not actually take the form the bellicose Duke had hoped for. Lord Liverpool agreed with Wellington completely on the main point; only, he said (Bath, 1 January 1815), it was necessary to wait for the time: "The only point which I wish to impress upon you is the absolute impossibility, in the present state of the circumstances and feelings in this country, of our engaging in military operations for the purpose of expelling Murat". Incidentally, in the unfavourable sentiment against Joachim, as in any question of British policy, there were also very material motives at play: "Si cette péninsule retombe dans les mains de la famille Buonaparte, le commerce anglais va à être gêné de nouveau dans cette péninsule, et certainement elle y tombera si de mesures rigoureuses et l'expulsion de Murat de l'Italie ne préviennent ce malheur"; Le Chevalier T. (Tinseau?) to Castlereagh 29 Nov. 1814; ibit p. 211, 243 f.

Footnote 3) Schöll, Recueil VI S. 364—394: Mémoire historique sur la conduite politique et militaire de S. M. le Roi de Naples etc.; S. 395—419 : Observations par le général comte Nugent etc.; S. 435—450: Dépêche de Lord William Bentinck au vicomte Castlereagh en date de Florence le 7 janvier 1815. The first two pieces are undated, but fall into the year 1814, and the memorandum into midsummer, since Castlereagh sent it to Count Bathurst on 6 September.

----

Just to add to this: Colonel Maceroni in his memoirs, as we have seen, had accused Eugène of having informed Austrian commander Bellegarde about the secret negotiations with Murat. This was obviously unnecessary, as Mier’s letters prove the Austrians to be very aware of what was going on anyway. But talked about it he surely had, as even in Paris the British had already taken note:

Lord Castlereagh to Lord Bathurst. Paris, May 3, 1814.

My Lord, I have delayed transmitting the enclosed correspondence for a few days, in the hope that I might be enabled to ascertain whether the Viceroy's assertions of Murat's treachery were supported by any documents on which the Allies could justify a change of policy towards him ; but none have as yet been received : I shall, however, take steps to ascertain the fact. The Austrian Government have no other reluctance on this point than what good faith imposes. As soon as I can learn anything further on this subject, your lordship shall hear from me.

I have, &c.,

CASTLEREAGH.

PS. Since this despatch was closed, I have received despatches from Sir R. Wilson, which throw further light upon Murat's conduct.

(taken from: »Memoirs and Correspondence of Viscount Castlereagh«, Volume X)

During that time, Eugène was still on his way to Munich; so he must have opened up quite a bit to Bellegarde before, when handing over Upper Italy to him. One can assume both commanders agreed heartily in their dislike for poor Murat.

(On a side note: As for the opinion of General Nugent cited above, I’ve recently come across an account of the battle of Raab which this gentleman apparently managed to loose singlehandedly. Not sure I’d put too much faith in his view of military matters.)

#joachim murat #congress of vienna #castlereagh #eugene de beauharnais #italy1814 #helfert murat #bentinck #nugent

16 notes · View notes

psychiatristreturning · 4 years ago

Text

gaza

word count: 1,172 a/n: for whoever requested part two, this can be read as a stand-alone story and takes place in the diana au warnings: you saw the title you know what’s up, angst taglist: @harpersmariano, @ilovebucketbarnes masterlist

The morning had started normally. As many do. You had been exceedingly more tired the past few days, Donna had just gone on the trip to Gaza and you and Josh both were attempting to split some work that Donna would normally be doing. You were practically crawling to your office in the morning, your eyes heavy with sleep, or really, sleep deprivation. The normal routine of Donna greeting you was broken, your empty office laughing at you as you entered, hopeful that she might be there.

But, she wasn’t, so you had to settle for the lukewarm coffee on your desk, taunting you. You slumped into the chair, the wheels groaning from too many mornings of the action. After flipping aimlessly through piles of papers on your desk, you decided to get up and go check in with people, something that used to be enjoyable when Donna was there.

The bullpen was filled with normal early morning chatter about the day ahead, any news from Donna, such and such. Eventually you had caught up with Kate and Josh, making small talk about the day and how they were doing.

Suddenly all hell broke loose.

You turned your head with the sea of people rushing into the bullpen, “Josh what’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” he trailed off, walking with the crowd. Kate put her hand on your back, pushed you gently into the bullpen. You all crowded around the tv, which was reporting on an attack in Gaza, with casualties. You clamped your hand over your mouth, tears forming in your eyes. Josh who was the only other quiet person in the world, shakily made his way over to you, “Y/N? Are you okay?” you began to force words out when you let out a quiet sob. He pulled you close, not needing you to say anything.

Tears poured out of your eyes when you heard Carol yell, “MSNBC has video!”

There was a scrambling for the remote as the channel was switched and eyes were glued to the TV. A burning car stared you down, telling you that there was no hope. Then, Toby got a phone call.

He answered in a hurry, “Hello?” There was a beat before he exclaimed, “Andy!” all eyes went to him, “Yeah,”

You kept an arm hooked around Josh, afraid of what would happen if you let go. Toby’s face fell, “Desantos and Corb are dead.” your hand flew up to your mouth again. Josh rubbed you shoulder comfortingly.

“Donna? Ask her about Donna!” you exclaimed.

He muttered something into the phone about Donna, he looked sadly at you, “She doesn’t know, she was in the other car. People were taken in ambulances.”

You felt your heart drop into your stomach, how would you tell Diana, and you could only imagine all the condolences you would get, it was quite the publicized relationship already. You shuffled into your office, and attempted to get a hold of any news about Donna. “Please! Donna Moss! D-O-N-N-A M-O-S-S!” you stopped as the woman replied, “Oh my” you said, “She’s alive though?” you smiled, “Thank you.” you hung up the phone.

Josh walked into your office, “What’s going on?”

“Donna’s alive, she’s being flown to Germany, she’s in critical condition.”

“Good,”

“I’m calling her parents.” He nodded quickly and turned to go, “Stay. Please.” he turned back and around and leaned against your desk.

“Hi, Mrs. Moss.” they carried the conversation happily, but became concerned at your somber tone, “I’m sorry, but Donna is hurt.” she gasped, “In Gaza, their car blew up, she’s flying to Germany.”

“I’m sorry, bye Mrs. Moss.”

You dropped your phone and Josh rushed around to you, hugging you.

Josh dropped his mouth to your ear, “Let’s go,” he whispered, you nodded slowly, knowing that you had to go talk to Leo. You both rushed down the hallway, keeping your eyes trained on the floor.

“Y/N!” your head snapped up, seeing Leo’s concerned eyes on you. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” you muttered, not entirely feeling alright for obvious reasons. You began pacing around the room, hoping to alleviate some stress.

Tired and worried chatter began between the staff, trying to figure out our next move. It was bomb this, treaty that, when you spoke up. “How are we going to tell the country that two congressmen are dead?” the room went silent, “How do we tell their wives, and children?”

Everyone saw how stressed you were, you were the wife, and how could you tell your daughter.

“We should focus on that first!”

Leo walked up to you, placing his hand on your shoulder, “Y/N if you need to be somewhere else, that’s alright.”

“Josh,” you whispered. He left the room with you, “Can you watch Diana for however long I’m gone?”

“Of course,” he placed a kiss on your forehead, “I’m sorry,”

“Thank you,”

You rushed down the hall picking up your overnight bag, and rushed out of the White House, on your way to Germany.

~~~

The almost eight-hour plane ride was the longest time ever. All you wanted was to see your partner. You had partially cleaned yourself up in the bathroom mirror before you caught a cab to the hospital. “Who are you here to see?”

“Donna Moss,”

“Family only.”

“I’m her partner!”

She looked up at you, “Not legally, so no.”

You pulled out your congressional passport, “I have the rank of a three star general.”

“Right this way, ma’am.”

Quickly, you fell into step behind the nurse following her back into the hall, “Here she is,”

“Thank you,” you mutter, stepping into the room, while your stomach twists at the sight, she is alive.

You sit in the chair next to Donna’s bedside, softly placing your hand on top of hers, “I’m sorry, Donna. I shouldn’t have let you go. It’s all my fault, and I know you can’t hear me. But maybe it’s better that way.” you sighed and intertwined your fingers gently with hers, “I know that if you were awake you’d be asking me a lot, like ‘shouldn’t you be at the White House?’, ‘who’s with Diana?’. Well, Josh is with Diana. And I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse, but, gosh, I’m going to be here. No matter what. If I lose my job I don’t care! The first thing I’m making sure of is that you’re okay! We have a daughter! And if you died,” you trailed off, hot tears running down your tired face, “I don’t know what I would do.” you voice broke as you sobbed quietly, still clutching her hand. “I love you, Donna Moss. And I would give up everything, to be with you forever. Everything.”

You leaned over and pressed your forehead against the cold sheets of the bed, “I love you.” you whispered.

Suddenly, she squeezed your hand, lightly, but it was there. Donna heard you. She knew you were there. You were there for her. And you would never leave.

#donna moss x reader #donna moss #x reader #tww #the west wing

10 notes · View notes

yetisidelblog · 5 months ago

Text

In 2024, California’s 22nd congressional district voted for Donald Trump for the first time. It also has the highest percentage of residents on Medicaid in the country -- 67%. So we went to California’s Central Valley to find out how people are feeling about Trump now that his administration may cut one of the benefits that they rely on the most.

We spoke with Irma Arredondo, a 64-year old former farmworker who voted for Trump in this last election. Irma has type 1 diabetes; she’s also a full-time caregiver for her daughter who has Cerebral Palsy and her sister who has Turner’s Syndrome.

We asked Irma how cuts to Medicaid would impact her and her family:

“We feel hopeless if those cuts come. What are we going to do … The medicine my daughter takes for seizures … I won’t be able to afford it.”

California’s 22nd district is represented by Republican Congressman David Valadao, a member of the House Appropriations Committee. Rep. Valadao voted for the budget resolution that could massively cut Medicaid benefits in order to fund more tax breaks for billionaires and corporations, and he’s playing a major role in crafting this budget.

Every member of Congress needs to hear from us that we oppose cuts to Medicaid that will result in tens of millions of people being kicked off of Medicaid. Click here to send a message to your senators and representative, and after you’ve taken action, watch our latest report.

There are three primary ways that Republicans could cut Medicaid:

By adding reporting requirements, which will kick 36 million eligible people off of their healthcare

By reducing Medicaid expansion under the Affordable Care Act, which previously added 20 million people to Medicaid

Or, by capping Medicaid contributions to states, which would result in tens of millions of people losing healthcare coverage

Take action today! Send a message to your senators and representative and tell them to reject Medicaid cuts that will harm tens of millions of people, just to hand even more tax breaks to the rich and corporations.

@upontheshelfreviews

@greenwingspino

@one-time-i-dreamt

@tenaflyviper

@akron-squirrel

@ifihadaworldofmyown

@justice-for-jacob-marley

@voicetalentbrendan

@thebigdeepcheatsy

@what-is-my-aesthetic

@ravenlynclemens

@writerofweird

@anon-lephant

@mentally-quiet-spycrab

@therealjacksepticeye

1 note · View note

firsthopemedia · 4 years ago

Photo

Will The Next Cold War Be An Economic One? FIRST HOPE FINANCIAL Several big stories hit the financial news this past week but the real significance of these stories were not discussed anywhere. Number one, the U.S. Congress pushed to file unfair trade practices against China, stating that the Bush administration’s quiet behind-the-scenes negotiation strategy was unacceptable as a tactic to bring economic reform to China. In another story this week, these words appeared - Rather than serve as "an apologist" for China, "I hope the administration will join this team," Sen. Lindsey Graham, R-S.C., told reporters after testifying before the Senate Finance Committee in the second hearing on China's economic and currency policies in two days. This article reported that Congress aimed to pass bi-partisan veto-proof legislation that will force the Chinese Yuan to appreciate against the dollar. American manufacturers have claimed that the Chinese government’s unfair manipulation of their currency has hurt them and their Congressmen are listening. Then finally at the end of the week, this headline appeared in an article: “The U.S. Commerce Department announced sanctions against paper imports from China, the first time in 23 years that U.S. duty law has been applied to imports from that country.” Reporting the above is fine, but what are its implications? Here is my view. For once, I agree that the Bush administration is taking the proper stance and their disapproval of these brash, flag-waving Congressmen is merited. When sending U.S. Federal Reserve Chairman Bernanke and the U.S. Secretary of Treasury Paulson to China only resulted in China defiantly stating that they will not allow another nation to dictate to them how they should run their economy, U.S. Congress should have gotten the hint. Instead, they escalated an already potentially volatile situation with their threats and sanctions this week. Stephen Roach, the chief economist at Morgan Stanley warned Congress that currency valuation was far from being the sole component hurting American manufacturers. He stated that China’s cheap labor costs, burgeoning modern infrastructure and technology and growing investment in human capital and research also have greatly contributed to the burgeoning trade imbalance between China and the United States. Mr. Roach commented, "The foreign-exchange rate is not the answer, in my view. You in the Congress need to ask yourselves an important hypothetical question: How would you feel if you got your way on the Chinese currency adjustment but found that after three or four years the pressures bearing down on American workers had only intensified? As I see it, that's a very real risk that should not be taken lightly.” Although I have vehemently disagreed with Mr. Roach’s past views on other subject matters, I believe that he is on the mark 100% this time and I’ll tell you why. U.S. Federal Chairman Bernanke has already publicly stated that everybody knows that the weak dollar is good for the U.S. government because it makes their debt cheaper and also helps to close the trade gap. So if you don’t think that the U.S. is not guilty of manipulating their own currency as well to serve their purposes then you are living in some kind of economic fantasyland. There are a whole lot of American expats living abroad that would like to see their own government do something to protect the value of their own currency instead of lecturing other nations as to how they should be managing theirs. Furthermore, this event is indeed a watershed event in the ongoing re-structuring of the world’s economies. In the past, colonized nations had bitterly complained to Europe and the U.S. about the harm their economic policies inflicted upon their economies. But now we see a 180% reversal, with developed countries complaining to emerging nations about their policies. But this is almost beside the point when it comes to examining much more significant fallout of an open trade war with China. The reason the Bush administration is trying to negotiate quietly with the Chinese rather than take the more hard-line stance assumed by the U.S. Congress is that they know that the Chinese government holds far more important cards than the valuation of the Yuan, namely the more than one trillion dollars of U.S. dollar denominated assets that they currently hold in their reserves. As I stated in a blog I posted about a week ago to The Underground Investor, the U.S. Congress would be foolish to aggressively alienate the Chinese government with so much at stake. The problems with the U.S. economy are much more a product of past U.S. fiscal irresponsibility than the manipulative actions of the Chinese economy and if the U.S. chooses to try to scapegoat an economic giant like China for their current problems, I believe, as Mr. Roach stated, that re-valuation of the Yuan will not be the answer. Furthermore, it is exactly these protectionist measures that the U.S. is seeking to implement that have hindered emerging markets in the past. Instead of addressing the real reasons behind a lagging economy, protectionist measures many times seek to scapegoat another country’s economic policies for far more deep-rooted economic failures at home. Furthermore, protectionist measures often harbor and encourages domestic inefficiencies to persist instead of encouraging proactive solutions that attack the root of the problem. In fact, if the U.S. Congress pushes through their punitive measures, I can tell you right now that revaluation of the Yuan will NOT be the answer to the problems of the American economy. And despite the fact that offloading massive amounts of U.S. dollars will hurt the Chinese economy as well, there will also come a time when the Chinese government, if pushed far enough, will offload massive amounts of U.S. dollars because their strong economy will be able to absorb its negative effects much better than the weak U.S. economy. And if they do so, the U.S. Congress will have given them the perfect excuse to do something that I believe the Chinese government is planning to do anyway. However, they will be able to do it, save face at the same time, and do it earlier than anyone expects, as opposed to having the global community heap loads of criticism upon them for what would otherwise seem to be a sudden decision that came out of nowhere. Instead of such an action being viewed as the selfish actions of a nation, it will instead by viewed as a reaction to U.S. bullying, and U.S. Congress will have given the Chinese government the perfect out. In this case, quiet negotiations is the proper way because any other way is bound to bring harm to not only Americans in the future, but to the global economy as well. When I have blogged about governments being chronic liars in the past, certainly the Chinese government or any world government is not immune. While the Chinese government has publicly stated that they will not take any sudden actions that will greatly hurt the U.S. dollar, do you really believe that they want to hold a trillion dollars of a currency that continues to lose significant value every year? Trust me, they are planning to get rid of these dollars as soon as economically possible and behind the scenes, they have a plan in place to offload them. Again, I can tell you why punitive Congressional U.S. measures will not coax the Chinese to assume policies the U.S. wants but only anger them. To begin, Japan is on the verge of replacing America as China’s number one trading partner. If the Chinese choose to bow down to American pressure, they would undoubtedly anger the Japanese who have heavily invested in China and would be adversely affected by the Chinese government’s decision to appease the U.S. Congress. Angering your number one trading partner would be even worse than angering the U.S. And this just in, even as I write this blog, in a report originating out of New York: Today, China called the first of U.S. protectionist measures, tariffs on their paper imports, “unacceptable.” China strongly demands the United States to reconsider this decision and correct it as soon as possible," China Commerce Ministry spokesman Wang Xinpei said in a statement on a government Web site. Secondly, I believe that the Chinese government, despite what diplomatic statements they release to the financial press about being concerned not to enact any policies that will cause the U.S. dollar to fall quickly, desire to unload a significant portion of their $1 trillion dollar of U.S. dollar-denominated reserves. The Chinese government realizes that offloading significant portions of dollars, whether it is to purchase oil and natural gas for their state reserves, or the purchase of other assets, will automatically cause the Yuan to strengthen. They are not going to appease the U.S. Congress now and watch the Yuan strengthen and then see this effect multiply as they unload U.S. dollars from their reserves. I believe that this is how the Chinese will eventually allow the Yuan to strengthen – by merely cutting back on their dollar-denominated assets, something that they want to do anyhow. With this potential trade war, it is important to ignore the preening of the U.S. Congress but to consider the implications of their potential actions instead. U.S. Congressmen are no doubt influenced a great deal by their most important constituents, in this case, large manufacturers. However, in this case, it is not the concerns of the large manufacturers that are most important. Here they serve merely as a smokescreen. Sure, large manufacturers are being hurt right now by Chinese imports, but rather than considering this part of the equation which the financial media gives much attention to, it is more important to consider the other side of the equation that is never spoken of in the financial media. Rather than listen to the complaints of the hurt, seek out what t

1 note · View note

quakerjoe · 6 years ago

Link

Usually, comparisons between Donald Trump’s America and Nazi Germany come from cranks and internet trolls. But a new essay in the New York Review of Books pointing out “troubling similarities” between the 1930s and today is different: It’s written by Christopher Browning, one of America’s most eminent and well-respected historians of the Holocaust. In it, he warns that democracy here is under serious threat, in the way that German democracy was prior to Hitler’s rise — and really could topple altogether.

Browning, a professor emeritus at the University of North Carolina, specializes in the origins and operation of Nazi genocide. His 1992 book Ordinary Men, a close examination of how an otherwise unremarkable German police battalion evolved into an instrument of mass slaughter, is widely seen as one of the defining works on how typical Germans became complicit in Nazi atrocities.

So when Browning makes comparisons between the rise of Hitler and our current historical period, this isn’t some keyboard warrior spouting off. It is one of the most knowledgeable people on Nazism alive using his expertise to sound the alarm as to what he sees as an existential threat to American democracy.

Browning’s essay covers many topics, ranging from Trump’s “America First” foreign policy — a phrase most closely associated with a group of prewar American Nazi sympathizers — to the role of Fox News as a kind of privatized state propaganda office. But the most interesting part of his argument is the comparison between Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell and Paul von Hindenburg, the German leader who ultimately handed power over to Hitler. Here’s how Browning summarizes the history:

Paul von Hindenburg, elected president of Germany in 1925, was endowed by the Weimar Constitution with various emergency powers to defend German democracy should it be in dire peril. Instead of defending it, Hindenburg became its gravedigger, using these powers first to destroy democratic norms and then to ally with the Nazis to replace parliamentary government with authoritarian rule. Hindenburg began using his emergency powers in 1930, appointing a sequence of chancellors who ruled by decree rather than through parliamentary majorities, which had become increasingly impossible to obtain as a result of the Great Depression and the hyperpolarization of German politics.

Because an ever-shrinking base of support for traditional conservatism made it impossible to carry out their authoritarian revision of the constitution, Hindenburg and the old right ultimately made their deal with Hitler and installed him as chancellor. Thinking that they could ultimately control Hitler while enjoying the benefits of his popular support, the conservatives were initially gratified by the fulfillment of their agenda: intensified rearmament, the outlawing of the Communist Party, the suspension first of freedom of speech, the press, and assembly and then of parliamentary government itself, a purge of the civil service, and the abolition of independent labor unions. Needless to say, the Nazis then proceeded far beyond the goals they shared with their conservative allies, who were powerless to hinder them in any significant way.

McConnell, in Browning’s eyes, is doing something similar — taking whatever actions he can to attain power, including breaking the system for judicial nominations (cough cough, Merrick Garland) and empowering a dangerous demagogue under the delusion that he can be fully controlled:

If the US has someone whom historians will look back on as the gravedigger of American democracy, it is Mitch McConnell. He stoked the hyperpolarization of American politics to make the Obama presidency as dysfunctional and paralyzed as he possibly could. As with parliamentary gridlock in Weimar, congressional gridlock in the US has diminished respect for democratic norms, allowing McConnell to trample them even more. Nowhere is this vicious circle clearer than in the obliteration of traditional precedents concerning judicial appointments. Systematic obstruction of nominations in Obama’s first term provoked Democrats to scrap the filibuster for all but Supreme Court nominations. Then McConnell’s unprecedented blocking of the Merrick Garland nomination required him in turn to scrap the filibuster for Supreme Court nominations in order to complete the “steal” of Antonin Scalia’s seat and confirm Neil Gorsuch. The extreme politicization of the judicial nomination process is once again on display in the current Kavanaugh hearings. ...

Whatever secret reservations McConnell and other traditional Republican leaders have about Trump’s character, governing style, and possible criminality, they openly rejoice in the payoff they have received from their alliance with him and his base: huge tax cuts for the wealthy, financial and environmental deregulation, the nominations of two conservative Supreme Court justices (so far) and a host of other conservative judicial appointments, and a significant reduction in government-sponsored health care (though not yet the total abolition of Obamacare they hope for). Like Hitler’s conservative allies, McConnell and the Republicans have prided themselves on the early returns on their investment in Trump.

This is the key point that people often miss when talking about Hitler’s rise. The breakdown of German democracy started well before Hitler: Hyperpolarization led Hindenburg to strip away constraints on executive power as well as conclude that his left-wing opponents were a greater threat than fascism. The result, then, was a degradation of the everyday practice of democracy, to the point where the system was vulnerable to a Hitler-style figure.

Now, as Browning points out, “Trump is not Hitler and Trumpism is not Nazism.” The biggest and most important difference is that Hitler was an open and ideological opponent of the idea of democracy, whereas neither Trump nor the GOP wants to abolish elections.

What Browning worries about, instead, is a slow and quiet breakdown of American democracy — something more much like what you see in modern failed democracies like Turkey. Browning worries that Republicans have grown comfortable enough manipulating the rules of the democratic game to their advantage, with things like voter ID laws and gerrymandering, that they might go even further even after Trump is gone:

No matter how and when the Trump presidency ends, the specter of illiberalism will continue to haunt American politics. A highly politicized judiciary will remain, in which close Supreme Court decisions will be viewed by many as of dubious legitimacy, and future judicial appointments will be fiercely contested. The racial division, cultural conflict, and political polarization Trump has encouraged and intensified will be difficult to heal. Gerrymandering, voter suppression, and uncontrolled campaign spending will continue to result in elections skewed in an unrepresentative and undemocratic direction. Growing income disparity will be extremely difficult to halt, much less reverse.

I’ve observed this kind of modern authoritarianism firsthand in Hungary. In my dispatch after visiting there, I warned of the same thing as Browning does here: The threat to the United States isn’t so much Trump alone as it is the breakdown in the practice of American democracy, and the Republican Party’s commitment to extreme tactics in pursuit of its policy goals in particular.

We are living through a period of serious threat to American democracy. And Browning’s essay, a serious piece by a serious scholar, shows that it’s not at all alarmist to say so.

81 notes · View notes

prorevenge · 6 years ago

Text

THAT'S ILLEGAL ANYWAYS!

To start this off, I want to mention I have never been very good at school, (Except for in early elementary school). But man was 7th grade a difficult year for me. At my school, there were three houses for the 7th grade. A house, B house, And the personalized learning house (C house). Me, being somebody who has had issues with the traditional school learning style, applied to the personalized learning house. While the other houses had 4 teachers, (One for Science, Math, Writing, and reading) we had just 3. (An all in one english teacher).

The beginning of the year started out ok. I was getting 3's and 4's on all assignments, (We did not have letter grades yet). I stayed quiet, kept to myself, and showed interest in what was being taught. Things continued on this way for a while. Suddenly my math teacher was getting agitated just by things like me asking questions in class. I assumed that there must have been some kind of thing that had happened in administration or whatever, they could have just been annoyed. I put up with their aggression, however eventually the whole mood of everything started to change, and I wasn't able to focus in class. This was in addition to my undiagnosed ADD at the time as well.

My grades were really starting to suffer, and I was somebody who was always trying to succeed in school. I even applied for a college scholarship that year, I went home one day to talk to my parents about how much I was struggling, and how my teachers were being aggressive. I got the standard lecture about me just not taking enough initiative. More frustrated than before,

I went on to school the next day. My teachers were REALLY on edge that day. Due to my previous confusion in math, I did not have my assignment completed for that day. I openly told my math teacher about it, and asked if she could help me with some things during our study hall. She angrily told me "You can't even complete a single sheet of math on your own. I'm not sure how much I can help you." I was pissed. Before that, her aggression had been mostly passive, but she was being a huge bitch.

I walked to the door, tossing my math sheet in the recycling (Because I'm eco friendly) on the wary out. I made my way down to the guidance counselor, and requested a meeting. I'd never liked her either, but maybe she could help me. I expressed to her how stressed out about this I was. I felt like I was being targeted, and treated unfairly. THIS WAS JUST THE BEGINNING. After I finished my solid 20 minute rant. She told me that if I were to be focusing, she wouldn't be annoyed with me. (Again I had undiagnosed ADD) I pretended that I understood and cared what she was saying. Little did I know, our entire meeting, she was constructing a badly worded email to my math teacher. I continued my day, pissed off, and stressed out.

I came back to school the next day, Sat down next to my friend (I'll call him J). And got started on the math work we had been handed. I was talking to J about some of the problems, which he had no issue understanding. I remember saying "I don't get this!" At the first scent of blood my teacher walked over with the most fucking evil look on her face I have ever seen. "I just taught you all of this! How do you not understand it?" I couldn't keep myself contained, "I don't know!" Her face was red with anger. "And I suppose it's my fault! Because apparently you don't think I'm doing my job." As frustrated as I had been with her, I had NEVER said that. "What?". This is where I found that my genius counselor had sent an email to her with everything I had said about school, and her. She interpreted my issues with my concenration, and her attitude the wrong way. She had also filled my english teacher's brain with the same shit hers was full of. Now it was two against one. J was watching all of this, along with the other 24 kids in the class. "Y'know what? Get your crap attitude and leave". She dragged me out of the room by my wrist and shut the door. This is where I started to exact my revenge.

My brother, similarly to me, had been having issues in school. My father had bought him a digital audio recorder, so that he didn't have to take notes, he could just listen to the lesson again. My brother wasn't all that interested by the idea, and hadn't used it at all. I took it to school the next day. During work time in my math class, I was talking to J and some other friend about my goals to become an engineer later when I grew up. I saw my math teacher walking over with that same shit eating grin as earlier. I pressed record on the recorder in my pocket. "How do plan on being an engineer if you can't even do this math. You probably aren't going to graduate high school, what makes you think you could get through college?" I kept my calm, knowing I had proof of her bitchiness now. "I wan't to do this math, I'm just having trouble understanding it." She literally started fucking panting. "Excuses aren't going to help you. Have fun failing all of your classes in 8th grade." PURE FUCKING GOLD. This single instance was a treasure trove of revenge material. However, she was the kind of person who acts really pleasant to parents and other adults, but like a nazi to students. A few days later, in her class, a kid was talking, and making harmless comedic comments on the math problems. My teacher swung around. "Will you shut the hell up? Jesus Christ!" I had that recorded too. Shortly after, the vice principal walked in, she put on a smile, and they started having a casual chat about the changing lunch schedule. Recorded. By the end of the week I had had enough evidence to fuck her over .

Monday morning had come. I didn't bother with my counselor again, I went straight to the principal. And played him the tapes. He said that maybe we should all have a meeting together. This is EXACTLY what I had wanted. My math teacher walks in to the principals office, sees me sitting there with a recorder, and I swear I could hear her shit herself. She sat down. At immediately ripped into me. "What is this about? Are you trying to be awful? Did I do something to you?" The principal asked her to wait a minute. He asked me to play the recordings again for her. She rebuttaled first with "You deserved everything I said." I was now the one with the shit eating grin. "What are you? 5?" I saw a vein pop out of her neck. SHE LOST HER SHIT. "THIS IS ILLEGAL ANYWAYS. YOU CAN'T RECORD ME LIKE THAT. WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING? I'M THE ADULT HERE! I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS! THIS IS ILLEGAL!". I reached into my pocket and pulled out a pocket constitution and read off at least three things in support of my actions. Then I pulled out a notebook in which I had jotted down information of some kind of congressional act. She was starting to tear up. The principal asked me to leave the room.

She was not at school the next day. Or at all after that. She was given the option to resign, or be fired. I'm not supposed to tell anyone this, but fuck it. Enjoy my first case of pro revenge.

(source) story by (/u/RavingwolfYT)

#prorevenge #by /u/RavingwolfYT #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

454 notes · View notes

sciencespies · 5 years ago

Text

The Thorny Road to the 19th Amendment

https://sciencespies.com/history/the-thorny-road-to-the-19th-amendment/

The Thorny Road to the 19th Amendment

When the 19th Amendment became law in August 1920, it constituted the largest simultaneous enfranchisement in American history—women nationwide had finally obtained, at least on paper, the right to vote. But it’s the struggle for suffrage, which stretched more than 75 years prior, and not just the movement’s eventual victory that UCLA historian Ellen Carol DuBois recounts in her new book, aptly titled Suffrage: Women’s Long Battle for the Vote.

Suffrage history is thistly and complicated. The movement got its start in abolitionist circles during the mid-19th century when most married women lacked basic property rights. Even among the progressive-minded women and men gathered at Seneca Falls in 1848, the notion that “it is the duty of the women of this country to secure to themselves their sacred right to the elective franchise” proved radical. “One of my intentions,” DuBois told Smithsonian, “is to integrate the history of the women’s suffrage movement into American history…At every stage, the larger political atmosphere, the reform energies of the 1840s and ’50s, the Civil War and Reconstruction, the period of Jim Crow, the Progressive Era and then World War I, each of those periods creates the environment in which suffragists have to work.” To that end, DuBois traces the ways in which Reconstruction fueled calls for “universal suffrage” as well as a racial schism among suffragists. We learn how the women’s rights advocates became (sometimes uneasy) allies with different political parties, Temperance advocates and the labor movement and how outside political turmoil, like World War I, complicated their quest for the vote. Centuries before social media and the internet, reformers turned to newspapers, speaking tours, and eventually advocacy that ranged from signature-gathering to hunger strikes to convince voters and legislators alike how imperative it was that women gain the franchise.

DuBois’ richly detailed account also doesn’t shy from examining the bitter divides that fissured the suffrage movement over methods, race and class as it struggled to piece together a coalition that would vote to let women vote too. In the 1870s, after a schism between prominent suffrage leaders over supporting the 15th Amendment, the movement split into several camps, one with more moderate tactics and Republican Party allegiance than the other; in the 1910s, a similar split emerged between the more militant NWP and conciliatory NAWSA. And despite the contributions of women of color like Ida B. Wells-Barnett and Mary Church Terrell to their cause, NAWSA adopted an “explicitly racist policy” to appeal to Southern states around the turn of the 20th century, DuBois writes.

Intermixed in all this political history are the miniature profiles of the remarkable, determined women (and choice male allies) who propelled the suffragist movement. Susan B. Anthony ranks among the best known, but DuBois also adds the lesser-known facets like that Anthony was formally tried and found guilty of casting a ballot “without having the lawful right” to do so in New York? DuBois also highlights the stories of suffragists with less name recognition, like the firebrand and Equal Rights party presidential candidate Victoria Woodhull, Woman’s Christian Temperance Union leader Frances Willard and millionaire benefactress Alva Belmont. DuBois spoke by phone with Smithsonian about her book:

This book covers a long history, and I’m curious about the evolution of the movement. What are some of the twists and turns the fight for suffrage took that were not part of the original vision?

First, what really makes the suffrage movement the foremost demand of the women’s rights movement are the consequences of the Civil War. The U.S. Constitution has almost nothing to say about who votes until the 15th Amendment, [which enfranchised African American men]. In the early postwar years, the assumption was that, like economic rights, voting rights would have to be won state by state.

Then with the 13th, 14th and 15th Amendments, which virtually rewrite the U.S. Constitution [to abolish slavery and give formerly enslaved people legal and civil rights], the suffrage movement focuses on getting the right for women to vote acknowledged in the Constitution. When efforts to get women included in the 15th Amendment failed, suffragists actually returned to the state level for the next many decades.

The suffragists go back to the states, almost all of them west of the Mississippi, and convince male voters to amend their state constitution to either remove the word “male” or put the right of women to vote in those constitutions. Here is the crucial thing to acknowledge: When that happened, first in Colorado, then in California and ultimately crossing the Mississippi to New York in 1917, those women who were enfranchised by actions of the state constitution had comprehensive voting rights, including for president. So for instance, the women of Colorado gained the right to vote in 1893; they voted for president five times before the 19th Amendment is passed. By the time that the suffrage movement moves into high gear, in the midst of the first World War and then immediately afterwards, four million American women have the right to vote for president.

The way that the right to vote moves back and forth from the state to the federal level is something that could not have been anticipated. Especially since those first suffragists really thought that in the sort of revolutionary change of emancipation and black male enfranchisement, surely women would also be included. The failure of the 15th Amendment to extend the franchise to women so enraged a wing of the women’s suffrage movement that it broke open the alliance between black rights and women’s rights groups with serious and negative consequences for the next half century.

The second thing I’d say is that when women’s suffrage started, the political parties were quite infant. Indeed, the women’s suffrage movement begins before the Republican Party comes into being. I don’t think that suffragist reformers really anticipated how powerful the major political parties would be over American politics. One of the things I discovered in my work was how determined the controlling forces in the major parties, first the Republican and then the Democratic Party, were to keep women from gaining the right to vote.

Why was that?

When the Republican Party enfranchised African-American, formerly enslaved men, almost all of whom lived in the South, they anticipated correctly that those men would vote for their party. The enfranchisement of women was so much greater in magnitude, so there was no way to predict how women would vote. Really up almost till the end of the suffrage movement, American women had a reputation, gained or not, for being above partisan concerns and sort of concerned with the character of the candidate or the nature of the policies, which meant that they could not be corralled into supporting a partisan force. So the only parties that really ever supported women’s suffrage were these sort of insurgent third parties who had nothing to lose and everything to gain by attaching themselves to a new electorate. The most important of these was what was called the People’s, or Populist, Party of the 1890s. Those first victories in the West can be credited to the dramatic rise of the People’s Party.

Suffragists wearing the names of some of the Western states that had already granted women the right to vote process down Fifth Avenue during a 1915 march.

(Bettmann via Getty Images)

How did the women’s suffrage movement move from being very closely tied to abolitionism to largely excluding women of color?

So there were a couple things. First, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, one of the dominating figures in the first half century of the movement, when she’s really enraged not just that women are excluded from the right to vote but women like herself are excluded from the right to vote, she expresses herself in ways that are…she’s charged with being racist. I think it’s more accurate to say she’s an elitist, because she’s as dismissive of European immigrants as she is of the formerly enslaved.

Stanton made really, really terrible comments about people a generation removed from slavery—she called them the sons and daughters of “bootblacks” or sometimes she called them “Sambo.” Sometimes that charge of racism flows over to her partner Susan B. Anthony. That’s not really fair. Anthony’s abolitionism was much deeper and more consistent. When you follow her career, until the day she died, she was always, wherever she went, she would make sure that she went to black churches, black universities, black societies.

Second, by the turn of century we’re moving into a whole different generation of leaders, none of whom have any roots in the abolition movement, who come of age during the period in which Reconstruction is portrayed as a terrible disaster for the nation and who are part and parcel of the white supremacist atmosphere of the early 20th century.

In those final eight years, 1912 to 1920, when the suffrage movement breaks through for a variety of reasons, to a real chance to win a constitutional amendment, the U.S. government is controlled by the Democratic Party. The president is a Southern Democrat. Washington, D.C., the home of the federal government, is a southern city. So the political atmosphere is radically hostile, at the national level, to anything that will help to return the African American vote.

In all the research you did for this book, was there anything that surprised you?

I was incredibly impressed by the congressional lobbying. I don’t think I appreciated, until I wrote this book, the quiet importance of Frances Willard and the WCTU, which doesn’t really fit into our normal story of suffrage radicalism. This sort of conventional women’s organization was important in bringing mainstream women, and not just the kind of radicals who had fought for the abolition of slavery, to recognize the importance of votes for women to achieve their goals, not just because these were high principles of equal rights, but because they couldn’t get what they wanted done. Whether it was the prohibition on alcohol or the end of child labor, they couldn’t do those things without the vote.

One of the lessons of the book is that the notion that women’s suffrage was a single-issue movement is just wrong. All of them had other goals. Carrie Chapman Catt was interested in world peace. Alice Paul was interested in equal rights for women beyond the right to vote. Anthony was interested in women’s right to earn a living. Stanton was interested in what we would call reproductive rights for women. Each of them had a larger vision of social change in which women’s suffrage was fundamental as a tool.

#History

2 notes · View notes